Even the journey to London had not given her the
thrill she hoped for, as rain had fallen heavily, blotting out the
landscape. Besides, she had even then regarded her stay in London with
the Home-Davises only as a stage on the journey which was eventually to
lead her into warmth and sunlight.
This train, with the foreign-looking people who rushed about chattering
French and German, Italian and Arabic on the platform and in the
corridors, seemed to link London mysteriously with other lands. Even the
strong, active porters, who sprang at huge trunks piled on cabs, and
carried them off to the weighing-room, were different from other
porters, more important, part of a great scheme, and their actions added
to her excitement. She liked the way that an alert guard put her into
her compartment, as if he were posting a letter in a hurry, and had
others to post. Then the great and sudden bustle of the train going out
made her heart beat.
Mary had been brought to the station early, for Elinor had been nervous
lest she might miss the train, and Doctor Smythe was coming at four
o'clock that afternoon. But others who were to share the compartment
were late. It was violently exciting to have them dash in at the last
moment, and dispose of bags and thick rugs in straps to be used on the
Channel.
They were two, mother and daughter perhaps; a delicate birdlike girl and
a plump middle-aged woman with an air of extreme self-satisfaction.
In themselves they did not appear interesting, but Mary was interested,
and wondered where they were going.
Pages:
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47