People settled down to waiting; some of them read, and others slept, among them Prince Aglipogue. He snored unrebuked. Ruth heard a man inviting Terry to a poker game in the smoking car and was relieved when he refused. It would have been lonely without him. She tried to read, but the car was growing steadily colder. Terry insisted that she put on her cloak, but even that didn’t help much, when she was stiff with inaction. She tried to read, and finally curled up in the chair to sleep. Her last conscious thought was a protest when she felt rather than saw Terry wrapping his cloak around her. CHAPTER XIII Ruth awakened to the sound of grinding brakes and opened her eyes to look into the eyes of Terry, which seemed very near as he bent over her. Her muscles were horribly cramped. She did not fully remember until he spoke. “We’ll be on our way in less than an hour, and if you want some coffee you’d better hurry. The train was only prepared for one meal, but there is some coffee and perhaps a piece of toast, if we get there before the hungry mob has finished it,” he said. “You gave me your coat,” she said, looking down at the garment that was wrapped about her. “You shouldn’t have done that; I had my own, and you must have frozen.” “Not at all; I’ve slept beautifully. Did it keep you warm?” “Yes, but—” “That’s all that counts; come on and get some coffee.” “Can’t I even wait to wash my face, or shall I wash it afterward, cat fashion?” “If it’s really necessary, you may; but you look remarkably clean and fresh considering—a few grains of dust, perhaps—” He looked at her with his head on one side, smiling. She was on her feet in an instant, but discovering that one foot was asleep, did not make such swift progress as she had expected. There were two other women in the dressing-room. Yesterday they would have looked at her as silently and impersonally as at the mirror or the wash basin or the black “prop” comb that is always found in Pullman dressing-rooms and that no one has ever been known to use, but now they were talking to her and to each other. The stout lady who was going home from a day’s Christmas shopping in New York was most voluble. She was worried about her husband and children, especially her husband. “What I’ll ever say to Henry, I don’t know. He told me that I could do just as well in Pittsfield as in New York. They have everything there, and such accommodating sales people—not like New York, where every one is too busy to be polite—and I didn’t get a thing I went after—and then this horrible experience. It’s added ten years to my life—I know it has.” “After all, it was only a delay,” comforted Ruth. “Suppose the train had been wrecked. I think it was rather fun.”