“Your taste is awfully uncultivated, isn’t it?” she bantered; “why don’t you--” she abruptly attempted to change the subject by an incoherent reference to a cow which was gazing in a field by the side of the line. “Why don’t I smoke gold-laced Machinopolos through an amber and diamond cigarette holder?” he suggested. “Because, little Moya, I am a poor hard-working artist who has been saving up all the week for this bust.” “I am so sorry,” she said; “I am awfully thoughtless. Won’t you forgive me?” “I won’t forgive you,” he said, “unless you keep in your mind the big fact that I am as immensely poor, as you are immensely rich.” “Why should I keep that in my mind?” she asked. “Because,” he said slowly, “until you are immensely poor or I am immensely rich we shall meet very occasionally and indulge in very infrequent busts.” “But what difference does money make?” she faltered. She found it difficult to speak plainly or even clearly. There was a lump in her throat which made her voice sound unnaturally hoarse. She had a strange sinking feeling within her and to her amazement she found the hand that she put up to brush back a stray curl trembling. She had never experienced any such sensation before. Her heart was thumping quickly; she was breathless, hot and cold by turns. He did not answer. She was seated by his side and she could only see his face out of the corner of her eyes, then she felt his arm slipping about her and before she knew what had happened, his lips were pressed to hers. This happened in a first-class railway carriage on a non-stop train. It had happened before to quite common people (as Moya had heard), but she never thought it would possibly happen to her, or that so vulgar a proceeding could be so wonderfully sweet. Sir Ralph and Lord Flanborough had met the local authorities. There had been a lunch and speeches in which Sir Ralph had distinguished himself by likening the forthcoming arrival of the Austral-African mail ship to the return of Ulysses and the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers. A wireless message from the ship stated that she did not expect to make harbour until nine o’clock in the evening, and this explained the earlier festivities. That they were of a sober and restricted nature, was explained by the fact that the day was Sunday. Later, it was intended that the sailings of the Austral-African line from Cape Town should be timed to bring the ships to port on the Saturday, but there had been no time to alter the arrangements for the _Charter Queen_ had sailed before Lord Flanborough and Sir Ralph had definitely decided the date on which the new service should be inaugurated.