towards the train. They were the sort of people to whom a
railway guard always touches his cap, and this duly occurred. Victor
Braithwaite, however, had on this occasion already been in consultation
with him, and they were taken to a compartment he had caused to be
reserved. On principle Jeannie felt bound to remonstrate.

"You are so extravagant," she said. "I know exactly what that means: you
have paid for four places."

"Three," he said. "You have paid for your own. And if you say a word
more I shall get another compartment for your maid."

Jeannie laughed.

"My lips are dumb," she said. "Ah! it is good to see you."

She was for the moment deprived of that particular blessing, for he went
out again to get a tea-basket, and Jeannie leant back in her seat,
feeling, in spite of her remonstrance, that exquisite pleasure that
comes from being looked after, from having everything done for you, not
from a man's mere politeness, but from his right (he, the one man) to
serve the one woman. In all he did he was so intensely efficient and
reliable; the most casual trivial detail, if entrusted to him, took
place as by some immutable natural law. He would return in the shortest
possible time, yet without hurry, with the tea-basket, while half that
crowd of jostling, distracted passengers outside would have to go
without. And it was not otherwise in things that were far from trivial.
When he told her he loved her she knew that she stood on an unshakable
rock, against which nothing could prevail. There was not a woman in the
world, she felt, as safe as she. Well she knew what lay beneath his
quietness and undemonstrativeness, a trust how complete, a love how
strong.

The train started, then he leant forward to her from his seat opposite
and took both her hands.

"My dearest," he said, and kissed her.

And then there was silence for a little.

"And your plans," he said at last--"your immediate plans, I mean? You go
to Lady Nottingham's in town now, don't you?"

"Yes; and you? Will you be in town?"

A smile just smouldered in his eyes.

"Well, just possibly," he said. "I hope we may meet now and then. She
has asked me down to Bray the day after to-morrow for Whitsuntide. Shall
I go?"

Jeannie laughed.

"I won't pretend not to know what that means," she said. "It means to
ask whether I am going. What shall we do? I suppose the house will be
full, whereas we might have a sort of dear little desert island all to
ourse