Sam put his charge into the express with many injunctions and a package of sweets. Kitty had scarcely spoken during the drive, and now speech failed her altogether. She could only cling to his rough hand, and nod her promises to send her address, when she found one, and let him know if ever she required help. He was a lonely man, and she had given him a new and great interest in life. They were too much engrossed at the last minute to notice a high-wheeled gig dash up to the station gate and deposit a passenger who entered the train lower down just as it was starting. There were three other passengers in the compartment, all more or less inclined to doze. Though deadly tired, Kitty had no inclination for sleep. Nor could she give a thought to the future. Not so soon could her mind and nerves recover from the strain and shock of the last two days. After Carlisle, however, she found herself alone, and the solitude began to have a soothing effect. She lay back in her corner and closed her eyes. The great train—the dear, kind monster she had so often watched and longed to travel on—thundered out its miles southward, and at two in the morning slumber was not far from the exhausted girl. Kitty gave a little sigh of content—and opened her eyes. The door of the compartment slid back. Alec Symington entered. CHAPTER VII FOR a moment or two Kitty was terror-stricken. Then common sense came to her aid. She was free, she was independent: the man might annoy her with his attentions, but he could not harm her. She sat up and met his smile with a grave look of inquiry. “This is a pleasant surprise, Kitty,” he said, seating himself directly opposite. “Rather a crowd in my part of the train, and I was hunting for a compartment with room to spare when fortune led me here,” he lied. “Not often I’m so lucky.” Kitty made no response. “You might have let me know you were going to make a journey,” he said pleasantly, “but perhaps you decided on it since I saw you.” He glanced at her things on the rack. “I see you are going all the way. Well, so much the better for me—eh? Come, Kitty, be friendly and say something.” “I have nothing to say, Mr. Symington.” “You’re thinking of last night—or, to be correct, the night before last. Well, I’m glad of this chance of apologizing. I’m sorry I struck the postman, but I was mad with the man for interfering, you know. I had something to tell you, Kitty, something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. . . . Well, are you going to forgive me?” “You had better ask Sam that. You didn’t hurt me—you only disgusted me. I think you should try to find a seat in another compartment.” She was quite cool now. Indeed, she was not sorry to have the opportunity of humiliating him for Sam’s sake. At her words his face took on a dusky shade, but he asked quietly enough, “Is that quite fair, Kitty?”