He was standing in the passage, his two bags at his feet, an aroused gleam in his eyes.

A deep flush overspread her face; an expression of utter rout succeeded the buoyancy of the moment before.
"Really," she murmured and could go no farther.

The loveliest pucker came into her face.

Brock waved the _garde_ aside.
"It's all right," he explained.

"I shan't occupy the--I mean, I'll take one of the other compartments." As the _garde_ opened his lips to protest, she drew Brock inside the compartment and closed the door.