"I cannot let you waste your time. I shall never play cards." Camilla felt the warmth and sparkle fade out of her thoughts again. "Oh," she said, "of course, I remember now! Somebody was telling me only the other day how good you were, that you would never speculate, or bet, or gamble in any shape or form. Lucky man, to be able to take so firm a stand!" He looked at her quickly; her sneer was unmistakable; he felt uncomfortable and pained, and he suddenly remembered how, as he had sat apart and watched her as she had been playing cards the night before, the expression of her delicately pretty face had given him a sense of trouble, even of uneasiness. Now her words, or rather the tone in which they were said, angered him a little. They drifted into a silence till the train came, and spoke very little during the journey to the junction, where they were to alight and pick up the London train. Mrs. Lancing bought a book and some papers at the bookstall. There were any amount of papers at Yelverton, but she never could deny herself the joy of spending. "I believe I downright hate him," she said to herself fretfully; "he is a real 'bourgeois.' Why does such a man come amongst us if he does not like our ways?" When the London train steamed in there was only one first-class compartment, and, as Haverford opened the door for Mrs. Lancing to enter, the only occupant, a young man, glanced up casually. Camilla Lancing drew back imperceptibly for an instant as she caught sight of him, but if she had intended to retreat, this intention was frustrated, for the young man flung aside his newspaper and started to his feet. "Hallo, there!" he exclaimed. "Hallo! Hallo! _Hallo!_ Here's luck! Who'd have thought of meeting you, Mrs. Lancing? I'm just home from Yankee land, and am toddling down to Yelverton for the night. Any chance of your being there?" Mrs. Lancing laughingly explained the situation, and introduced the two men. Sir Samuel Broxbourne looked keenly at Haverford. "So that's the factory Johnny who came into all that tin the other day, is it? Stuck up sort of chap! Might be a parson, or an actor." Rupert Haverford subsided into a corner and let the other two talk. He was seeing Camilla now in another phase, and one that was not charming to him. Instead of resenting Broxbourne's rough, slangy jargon she seemed to enjoy it. Her eyes grew brighter, and the colour stole back into her cheeks. They had so much to talk about. She even used some slang herself, though it sounded almost pretty coming from her lips. Having disposed of that first moment of awkwardness, even of alarm, which the unexpected meeting with Broxbourne signified to her, she responded instantly to the excitement of the moment; her good temper was completely restored. When they left the train, however, and Broxbourne had gone on ahead, she slipped her hand confidently for a moment in Mr. Haverford's arm.