d compartment exactly as if she had known he would be
there and he had expected her to come in; so that, though in the
conditions they could only exchange the greeting of movements, smiles,
silence, it would have been quite in the key of these passages that
they should have alighted for ease at the very next station. Kate was
in fact sure that the very next station was the young man's true
goal--which made it clear that he was going on only from the wish to
speak to her. He had to go on, for this purpose, to High Street,
Kensington, as it was not till then that the exit of a passenger gave
him his chance.

His chance put him, however, in quick possession of the seat facing
her, the alertness of his capture of which seemed to show her his
impatience. It helped them, moreover, with strangers on either side,
little to talk; though this very restriction perhaps made such a mark
for them as nothing else could have done. If the fact that their
opportunity had again come round for them could be so intensely
expressed between them without a word, they might very well feel on the
spot that it had not come round for nothing. The extraordinary part of
the matter was that they were not in the least meeting where they had
left off, but ever so much further on, and that these added links added
still another between High Street and Notting Hill Gate, and then
between the latter station and Queen's Road an extension really
inordinate. At Notting Hill Gate, Kate's right-hand neighbour
descended, whereupon Densher popped straight into that seat; only there
was not much gained when a lady, the next instant, popped into
Densher's. He could say almost nothing to her--she scarce knew, at
least, what he said; she was so occupied with a certainty that one of
the persons opposite, a youngish man with a single eyeglass, which he
kept constantly in position, had made her out from the first as
visibly, as strangely affected. If such a person made her out, what
then did Densher do?--a question in truth sufficiently answered when,
on their reaching her station, he instantly followed her out of the
train. That had been the real beginning--the beginning of everything
else; the other time, the time at the party, had been but the beginning
of _that._ Never in life before had she so let herself go; for always
before--so far as small adventures could have been in question for
her--there had been, by the vulgar measure, more to go upon. He had
walked with