He
was exactly what I had expected. He was not, however, alone, and that
surprised me. By his side stood a girl, obviously Russian, wearing her
Sister's uniform with excitement and eager anticipation, her eyes
turning restlessly from one part of the platform to another, listening
with an impatient smile to the remarks of her companion.
From where I stood I could hear his clumsy, hesitating Russian and
her swift, preoccupied replies. I came up to them.
"Mr. Trenchard?" I asked.
He blushed, stammered, held out his hand, missed mine, blushed the
more, laughed nervously.
"I'm glad ... I knew ... I hope...."
I could feel that the girl's eyes were upon me with all the excited
interest of one who is expecting that every moment of her new
wonderful experience will be of a stupendous, even immortal quality.
"I am Sister Marie Ivanovna, and you are, of course, Mr. Durward," she
said. "They are all waiting for you--expecting you--you're late, you
know!" She laughed and moved forward as though she would accompany me
to the group by the train.
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