But she stopped. That seemed a dull beginning. If she said that he would think she was commonplace, and she had that sustaining inward consciousness, mercifully vouchsafed even to the dullest of us, of being really rather nice, and not commonplace at all. But what should she say? If she said anything about the colour of the fog and Turner or Whistler, it might be telling, but it would be of the shop shoppy. If she began about books--the _Spectator_ suggested this--she would stand as a prig confessed. If she spoke of politics she would be an ignorant impostor soon exposed. If----But Nina took out her watch and resolved: "When the little hand gets to the quarter I _will_ speak. Whatever I say, I'll say something." And when the big hand did get to the quarter Nina did speak. "Why shouldn't we talk?" she said. He looked at her; and he seemed to be struggling silently with some emotion too deep for words. "It's so silly to sit here like mutes," Nina went on hurriedly--a little frightened, now she had begun, but more than a little determined not to be frightened. "If we were at a dance we shouldn't know any more of each other than we do now--and you'd have to talk then. Why shouldn't we now?" Then the stranger spoke, and at the first sentence Nina understood exactly what reason had decided the stranger that they should not talk. Yet now they did. If this were a work of fiction I shouldn't dare to pretend that the train took more than two hours to get to Mill Vale. But in a plain record of fact one must speak the truth. The train took exactly two hours and fifty minutes to cover the eleven miles between London and Mill Vale. After that first question and reply Nina and the stranger talked the whole way. He walked with her to the door of her lodging, and she offered him her hand without that moment of hesitation which would have been natural to any heroine, because she had debated the question of that handshake all the way from the station, and made up her mind just as they reached the church, a stone's throw from her home. When the door closed on her he went slowly back to the churchyard to lay his violets on a grave. Nina saw them there next day when she came out of church. She saw him too, and gave him a bow and a very small smile, and turned away quickly. The bow meant: "You see I'm not going to speak to you. You mustn't think I want to be always talking to you." The smile meant: "But you mustn't think I'm cross. I'm not--only----"