He was smiling, the smile of an old friend. With a sharp effort she pushed her way through, wondering how long she had sat staring at them, to recognition of the Croydon party. Who else indeed could it be? She gathered herself together and instantly saw in the hidden future not the sunlit mountains of her desire but for the first time the people already ensconced at the Alpenstock, demanding awareness and at least the semblance of interest. Sports-people, not only to the manner born—that, though they would not know it, was a tie, a home-tie pulling at her heart—but to the manner dressed, making one feel not merely inadequate but improperly hard-up. But since she was to live on a balcony? And there was the borrowed fur-coat ... and the blue gown. The words sung out by the Croydon father were lost amongst their echoes in the rafters. She heard only the English voice, come, as she had come, so far and so laboriously. Her gladly answering words were drowned by the sudden jingling of sleighbells at the door near by. * * * * * Behind the sturdy horse, whose head-tossings caused the silvery clash of bells was the sleigh of _The Polish Jew_, brought out of the darkness at the back of the stage and brightly coloured: upon a background of pillar-box red, flourishing gilt scrolls surrounded little landscape scenes painted upon its sides in brilliant deep tones that seemed to spread a warmth and call attention to the warmth within the little carriage sitting compact and low on its runners and billowing with a large fur rug. As unexpected as the luxurious vehicle was the changed aspect of the driver. Still wearing smock and slouch hat he had now an air of gravity, the air of a young student of theology. And on his face as he put her into the sleigh was a look of patient responsibility. He packed and arranged with the manner of one handling valuables, silently; the Swiss manner perhaps of treating the English, acquired and handed down through long experience of the lavish generosity of these travellers from whom it was useless to expect an intelligible word. But there was contempt too; deep-rooted, patient contempt. This was luxury. There was warmth under her feet, fur lining upon the back of the seat reinforced by the thickness of the fur-coat and all about her the immense fur rug. There was nothing to fear from the air that presently would be in movement, driving by and growing colder as the sleigh went up into the unknown heights. Away ahead the Croydon party made a compact black mass between the two horses of their larger sleigh and the luggage standing out behind in unwieldy cubes just above the snow. Their driver was preparing to start. On all the upward way they would be visible ahead, stealing its mystery, heralding the hotel at the end.