? I didn't see my Faces.
Does it mean we've escaped? Did--did you take any after I went to sleep?
I'll swear I didn't,' she stammered.

'No, there wasn't any need. We've slept through it.'

'No need! Thank God! There was no need! Oh, look!'

The train was running under red cliffs along a sea-wall washed by waves
that were colourless in the early light. Southward the sun rose mistily
upon the Channel.

She leaned out of the window and breathed to the bottom of her lungs,
while the wind wrenched down her dishevelled hair and blew it below
her waist.

'Well!' she said with splendid eyes. 'Aren't you still waiting for
something to happen?'

'No. Not till next time. We've been let off,' Conroy answered, breathing
as deeply as she.

'Then we ought to say our prayers.'

'What nonsense! Some one will see us.'

'We needn't kneel. Stand up and say "Our Father." We _must_!'

It was the first time since childhood that Conroy had prayed. They
laughed hysterically when a curve threw them against an arm-rest.

'Now for breakfast!' she cried. 'My maid--Nurse Blaber--has the basket
and things. It'll be ready in twenty minutes. Oh! Look at my hair!' and
she went out laughing.

Conroy's first discovery, made without fumbling or counting letters on
taps, was that the London and South Western's allowance of washing-water
is inadequate. He used every drop, rioting in the cold tingle on neck
and arms. To shave in a moving train balked him, but the next halt gave
him a chance, which, to his own surprise, he took. As he stared at
himself in the mirror he smiled and nodded. There were points about this
person with the clear, if sunken, eye and the almost uncompressed mouth.
But when he bore his bag back to his compartment, the weight of it on a
limp arm humbled that new pride.

'My friend,' he said, half aloud, 'you go into training. You're putty.'

She met him in the spare compartment, where her maid had laid breakfast.

'By Jove!' he said, halting at the doorway, 'I hadn't realised how
beautiful you were!'

'The same to you, lad. Sit down. I could eat a horse.'

'I shouldn't,' said the maid quietly. 'The less you eat the better.' She
was a small, freckled woman, with light fluffy hair and pale-blue eyes
that looked through all veils.

'This is Miss Blaber,' said Miss Henschil. 'He's one of the soul-weary
too, Nursey.'

'I know it. But when one has just given it up a full meal doesn't agree.
That's why I've only brought