“We shall have rather a rough crossing, I am afraid,” I said, touching my cap.

She looked at me as though surprised that I should have ventured to address her.  She did not take the trouble to be annoyed.  She answered me, indeed, with civility, but in a manner which certainly did not encourage me to attempt any further conversation.  There was a moment’s pause.  Then she turned away and spoke to some one behind her in the cabin.  A moment or two later the door was closed and I was left alone.  After that it seemed ridiculous to imagine that there was any special significance to be attached to the fact that we were fellow passengers.

The crossing was a rough one, and I saw nothing more of either Delora or the girl.  I had very little hand baggage, and I was one of the first to reach the train, where I made myself comfortable in the corner seat of a carriage towards the rear end.  The inspector, whom I knew very well, locked my door, and until the last moment it seemed as though I should have the compartment to myself.  The train, indeed, was on the point of starting, and I had almost given up looking out for my fellow passengers when they came hurrying up along the platform.  I saw them glancing into the windows of every carriage in the hope of finding a seat.  Two porters carried their small baggage.  An obsequious guard followed in the rear.  Just as they were opposite to the carriage in which I was sitting the whistle blew.

“Plenty of room higher up!” the inspector exclaimed.  “Take your seats, please.”

“We will get in here,” the girl answered,—­“that is to say, unless it is a reserved carriage.  Please to open the door at once.”

The inspector hesitated, remembering the tip which I had given him, but he had no alternative.  The guard produced his key and opened the door.  It was not until that moment that the girl recognized me.  She stepped back, and the look which she threw in my direction was certainly not flattering.

“Can you find us another carriage?” she asked the guard, imperiously.

“Quite impossible, miss,” the man answered.  “You must get in here or be left behind.”

They had barely time to take their seats.  As my place was next to the window, I felt bound to help the porter hand in the small packages.  The man Delora, who was wrapped up in a fur coat, and who looked ghastly ill, thanked me courteously enough, but the girl ignored my assistance.  They took the two corner seats at the further end of the carriage.  Delora immediately composed himself to sleep.

“It was a wretched crossing!” he said to the girl,—­“the most miserable crossing I have ever had!  And these trains,—­so small, so uncomfortable!”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“When one travels,” she said, “I suppose that one must put up with inconveniences of all sorts.”