better," she agreed.

And the guard, with a beaming smile, moved off to the other end of the
train, administering philosophic consolation to the disturbed passengers
on his way.

It was over half-an-hour before the obstruction on the line was removed
and the train enabled to steam ahead once more.

Nan, strung up by the realisation of how close she had been to probable
death, found herself unable to continue reading and gazed out of the
window, wondering in a desultory fashion how long she would have to wait
at St. David's before the next train ran to Abbencombe. It was
impossible now for her to catch the one she had originally proposed to
take. She was faintly disquieted, too, by the fact that she could not
precisely recollect noticing any later train quoted in the time-table.

The train proceeded at a cautious pace and finally pulled into St.
David's an hour late. Nan jumped out and made enquiry of a porter, only
to learn that her suspicions were true. There was no later train to
Abbencombe that day!

Rather shaken by the misadventures of the journey, she felt as though she
could have screamed at the placidly good-natured porter: "But there must
be! There _must_ be another train!" Instead, she turned hopelessly away
from him, and found herself face to face with Peter Mallory.

"In trouble again?" he asked, catching sight of her face.

She was surprised into another question, instead of a reply.

"Did you come down by this train, then, too?" she asked.

"Yes. I travelled smoker, though."

"So did I. At least"--smiling--"I converted my innocent compartment into
a temporary smoker."

But she was pleased, nevertheless, that neither their unconventional
introduction, nor the fact that he had rendered her a service, had
tempted him into assuming he might travel with her. It showed a rarely
sensitive perception.

"I suppose you've missed your connection?" he pursued.

"Yes. That's just it. The last train to Abbencombe has gone, and my
friends' car was to meet me there. I'm stranded."

He pondered a moment.

"So am I. I must get on to Abbencombe, though, and I propose to hire a
car and drive there. Will you let me give you a lift? Probably your
chauffeur will still be at the Station. The side-line train is a very
slow one and stops at every little wayside place on the way. To make
sure, we could telephone from here to the Abbencombe station-master,
asking him to tell your man to wait for you