No, I'm all for Miss Triscoe, and I hope that now, if she's taken herself off our hands, she'll keep off." "It's altogether likely that he's made her promise not to tell me anything about it," Mrs.March mused aloud.
"That would be unjust to a person who had behaved so discreetly as you have," said her husband.
They were on their way to Wurzburg, and at the first station, which was a junction, a lady mounted to their compartment just before the train began to move.

She was stout and middle-aged, and had never been pretty, but she bore herself with a kind of authority in spite of her thread gloves, her dowdy gray travelling-dress, and a hat of lower middle-class English tastelessness.

She took the only seat vacant, a backward-riding place beside a sleeping passenger who looked like a commercial traveller, but she seemed ill at ease in it, and March offered her his seat.

She accepted it very promptly, and thanked him for it in the English of a German, and Mrs.March now classed her as a governess who had been teaching in England and had acquired the national feeling for dress.

But in this character she found her interesting, and even a little pathetic, and she made her some overtures of talk which the other met eagerly enough.