If she had been less occupied with her observations, she might have noticed that one of her fellow travellers was keenly interested in her, and that the comic papers that were littered on the seat beside him received very little of his attention. A slight service rendered at Dover apparently gave him, at least in his own opinion, some sort of proprietary interest in this young woman, whose solitary journey seemed to him a challenge to his attention. Nevertheless, since they had entered the compartment, he had not been able to obtain so much as a glance from her. This, to one who was accustomed to think himself irresistible, was not a little irritating; a brilliant idea struck him, and he now held out to her one of the gaily-coloured periodicals. The familiarity of his tone, coupled with the fact that she had been accustomed to view such productions with disgust, impelled her to decline it; but remembering the relief she had felt at his help on the way, she accepted with a shy hesitation. The leaves fluttered in her hands, but the pictures that caught her eye, as she turned the paper over, distressed and annoyed her. In another moment she summoned up courage to hand it back to the owner. “What—don’t you like ’em?” he asked in surprised accents. “Come, this is good, don’t you think so?” He spoke with the assurance of an old friend, and the girl, who had entered the carriage with him, was seized with a sudden horror lest the other occupants of the compartment should identify her with this stranger. “Thank you, my eyes ache when I read in the train,” answered she, searching about for some plausible excuse. “Ah, that’s a pity, they’re much too pretty for that,” responded he with intended gallantry. Her eyes swam in a mist of tears. A less diffident girl would have instinctively known how to rebuke the offender, but she was accustomed to think humbly of herself, and at once concluded that something in her own conduct had led the man to think that he might take liberties with her. Suddenly, to her intense vexation, a large tear splashed on her lap; but at the critical moment, a voice said to her— “Pardon me, but I believe you would like a window seat. It is so much more comfortable. See, let me move your things.” In another moment, the speaker, who had been sitting beside her, and next to the window, had changed places with her, and had moved her bag and rugs so as to make a comfortable barrier round her. She tried to thank him, and met the eyes of a young lady to whom he had been talking and who, she supposed, must be his wife. “You are very tired, I am sure,” said the latter. “Granville, pass me my bag. Now, do have a little milk, it will be so good for you.” “Thank you so much, but I really do not need it,” protested the girl. “Oh, nonsense, you don’t know what is good for you! Come, I insist on it!”