Clayhanger brace himself and rap on the wood; and
instead of deploring his diffidence she liked it and found it full of
charm. The partition clicked aside, and the ticket-clerk's peering,
suspicious head showed in its place, mutely demanding a reason for this
extraordinary disturbance of the dream in which the station slumbered
between two half-hourly trains. With a characteristic peculiar slanting
motion Edwin nodded.

"Oh, how-d'ye-do, Mr. Brooks?" said Edwin hastily, as if startled by the
sudden inexplicable apparition of the head.

But the ticket-clerk had no Bradshaw either. He considered it probable,
however, that the stationmaster would have a Bradshaw. Edwin had to
brace himself again, for an assault upon the fastness of the
stationmaster.

And in the incredibly small and incredibly dirty fastness of the
stationmaster, they indeed found a Bradshaw. Hilda precipitately took it
and opened it on the stationmaster's table. She looked for Brighton in
it as she might have looked for a particular individual in a city. Then
Edwin was bending over it, with his ear close to her ear, and the sleeve
of his overcoat touching her sleeve. She was physically aware of him,
for the first time. She thought, disconcerted: "But he is an utter
stranger to me! What do I know of him?" And then she thought: "For more
than a year he must have carried my image in his heart!"

"Here," said Edwin brusquely, and with a certain superiority, "you might
just let me have a look at it myself."

She yielded, tacitly admitting that a woman was no match for Bradshaw.

After a few moments' frowning Edwin said:

"Yes, there's a train to Brighton at eleven-thirty to-night!"

"May I look?"

"Certainly," said he, subtly condescending.

She examined the page, with a serious deliberation.

"But what does this '_f_' mean?" she asked. "Did you notice this '_f_'?"

"Yes. It means Thursdays and Saturdays only," said Edwin, his eyes
twinkling. It was as if he had said: "You think yourself very clever,
but do you suppose that I can't read the notes in a time-table?"

"Well--" She hesitated.

"To-day's Thursday, you see," he remarked curtly.

She was ravished by his tone and his manner. And she became humble
before him, for in the space of a few seconds he had grown mysteriously
and powerfully masculine to her. But with all his masculinity there
remained the same wistful, honest, boyish look in his eyes. And she
thought: "If I marry him it will