'Small,' he said, collecting them slowly. 'Brown eyes--'
He desisted from his cataloguing at this point, for, with a loud
exclamation, Bill had dashed away.
Two cars farther back he had dropped into the seat by Elizabeth
and was gurgling wordlessly. A massive lady, who had entered the
train at East Moriches in company with three children and a cat in
a basket, eyed him with a curiosity that she made no attempt to
conceal. Two girls in a neighbouring seat leaned forward eagerly
to hear all. This was because one of them had told the other that
Elizabeth was Mary Pickford. Her companion was sceptical, but
nevertheless obviously impressed.
'My God!' said Bill.
The massive lady told the three children sharply to look at their
picture-book.
'Well, I'm hanged!'
The mother of three said that if her offspring did not go right
along to the end of the car and look at the pretty trees trouble
must infallibly ensue.
'Elizabeth!' At the sound of the name the two girls leaned back,
taking no further interest in the proceedings.
'What are you doing here?'
Elizabeth smiled, a shaky but encouraging smile.
'I came after you, Bill.'
'You've got no hat!'
'I was in too much of a hurry to get one, and I gave all my money
to the man who drove the car.
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