She flushed a little, smiled
brightly, and held out her gloved hand to me.
"Why, Mr. Bayne! I am so glad!" she exclaimed in frankly cordial tones.
The crass coolness of her tactics, with its implied rating of my
intelligence, was the very bracer I needed for a most unpleasant task. I
accepted her hand, bowed over it formally, and released it. Then I spoke
with the most impersonal courtesy in the world.
"And I," I declared coolly, "am delighted, I assure you. It is great
luck meeting you like this; and I will not let you slip away. I suppose
that when we board the train they will serve us a meal of some sort.
Won't you give me the pleasure of having you for my guest?"
The brightness had left her face as she sensed my attitude. She drew
back, regarding me in a rebuffed, bewildered way.
"Thank you, no. I am not hungry."
By Jove, but she was an actress! I should have sworn I had hurt her if I
hadn't known the truth.
"Don't say that!" I protested. "Of course it is unconventional to dine
with a stranger; but then so is almost everything that is happening to
you and me.
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