I knew very well that the last part of her sentence not only had reference to me, but was intended for my hearing.  I affected, however, to be absorbed in the magazine which I was reading, and under cover of which I was able to make a close observation of the man, who was sitting on the same side as myself.  He had put up his feet and closed his eyes, but he had evidently suffered badly from sea-sickness, for his face remained almost deathly white, and he shivered now and then as though with cold.  He had lost the well-groomed air which had distinguished him in Paris.  His features were haggard and worn, and he looked at least ten years older.  His clothes were excellently made, and the fur coat which he had wrapped around himself was magnificent.  For the rest, he seemed tired out—­a man utterly wearied of life.  Before we had reached the town station he was asleep.

The train rushed on into the darkness, and after a time I ventured to glance toward the girl.  She, too, was leaning back in her place, but her face was turned a little away from me towards the window, through which she was gazing with the obvious intentness of one whose thoughts are far away.  I had all my life been used to observing closely people of either sex who interested me, and I found now, as I had found during those various accidental meetings in Paris, that the study of this young woman afforded me a peculiar pleasure.  Apart from her more personal fascination, she was faultlessly dressed.  She wore a black tailor-made suit, perhaps a little shorter than is usual for travelling in England, patent shoes,—­long and narrow,—­and black silk stockings.  Her hat was a small toque, and her veil one of those for which Frenchwomen are famous,—­very large, but not in the least disfiguring.  This, however, she had raised for the present, and I was able to study the firm but fine profile of her features, to notice the delicacy of her chin, her small, well-shaped ears, her eyebrows—­black and silky.  Her eyes themselves were hidden from me, but their color had been the first thing which had attracted me.  They were of a blue so deep that sometimes they seemed as black as her eyebrows themselves.  It was only when she smiled or came into a strong light that they seemed suddenly to flash almost to violet.  Her figure was slim—­she was, indeed, little more than a girl—­but very shapely and elegant.  She could scarcely be called tall, but there was something in her carriage which seemed to exaggerate her height.  The very poise of her head indicated a somewhat contemptuous indifference to the people amongst whom she moved.

I had kept my scrutiny under control, prepared for any sudden movement on the part of the girl; but after all she was too quick for me.  She turned from the window with a perfectly natural movement, and yet so swiftly that our eyes met before I could look away.  She leaned a little forward in her place, and her forehead darkened.

“Perhaps, sir,” she said, “you will be good enough to tell me the meaning of your persistent impertinence?”