Think of those lord high executioners in there round the
table. See this platform with its guards and bayonets and guns. And then
remember our odd experiences on the _Re d'Italia_. Won't you risk one
more informality and come and dine?"
She hesitated a moment, watching me steadily; then, with proud
reluctance, she walked beside me toward the train.
"You helped me once," she said, her eyes averted now, "and I haven't
forgotten. I don't understand at all,--but I shall do as you say."
The passengers were being herded aboard by eager, bustling officials.
I saw my baggage and the girl's installed, disposed of the porters, and
guided my companion to the _wagon_ restaurant. The horn was sounding as
we entered, and at six-thirty promptly, just as I put Miss Falconer in
her chair, we pulled out of the snowy station of Modane.
As I studied the menu, the girl sat with lowered lashes, all things
about her, from her darkened eyes and high head to her pallor,
proclaiming her feeling of offense, her sense of hurt. She knew her
game, I admitted, and she had first-class weapons.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108