“More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. Mr. Laugh on the wrong side of your mouth, now. ’ ‘No, but you’ve made up for it since. Very doubtful. ’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. Irreton. She stood up before him, smiling faintly. The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life. She did not know herself.
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