She
looked down and into the eyes of Anne Courtenay, the governess. For a
full minute they stared blankly at each other, apparently bereft of
all the agencies that fall to the lot of woman.
"Miss Courtenay!" finally came from the lips of the girl on the
platform.
"Miss Thursdale!" murmured Anne, reaching out to support herself
against the bumper. Other words failed to come for the time being. In
sheer despair, neither could accomplish more than a pallid smile. To
the reader is left the privilege of analysing the thoughts which
surged through the brains of the bewildered young women,--the fears,
the doubts, the resentments.
"Where--where have you been?" at last fell from Miss Thursdale's lips.
"Been?" repeated Miss Courtenay, vaguely. "Oh, yes; I've been taking a
walk--a constitutional. I always do."
Eleanor stared harder than ever. "All this distance?" she murmured.
"Down the track for half a mile, Miss Thursdale."
"Are--were you on this train?" ejaculated Eleanor.
"Yes--but I--I---" stammered Anne, her face growing red with rising
resentment. "I did not think this of you."
"What do you mean? It is--May I ask why you are here, Miss Courtenay?
It is most extraordinary.
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