The letters, of course,
appeared reversed to any one inside the carriage, but they were so big
and black and hectoring that they were quite easily deciphered.
Evidently, in his violent haste to get her on board the train, the porter
had thrust her into the privacy of some one's reserved compartment that
some one being the man opposite. What a horrible predicament! Diana
felt hot all over with embarrassment, and, starting to her feet,
stammered out a confused apology.
The man in the corner raised his head.
"It does not matter in the least," he assured her indifferently. "Please
do not distress yourself. I believe the train is very crowded; you had
better sit down again."
The chilly lack of interest in his tones struck Diana with an odd sense
of familiarity, but she was too preoccupied to dwell on it, and began
hastily to collect together her dressing-case and other odds and ends.
"I'll find another seat," she said stiffly, and made her way out into the
corridor of the rocking train.
Her search, however, proved quite futile; every compartment was packed
with people hurrying out of town for Easter, and in a few moments she
returned.
"I'm sorry," she said, rather shyly. "Every seat is taken. I'm afraid
you'll have to put up with me."
Just then the carriage gave a violent lurch, as the express swung around
a bend, and Diana, dropping everything she held, made a frantic clutch at
the rack above her head, while her goods and chattels shot across the
floor, her dressing-case sliding gaily along till its wild career was
checked against the foot of the man in the corner.
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