Before them stood a tall, rather stout young woman with a full, red face, whose frowning expression was anything but reassuring.
"Yes--no, I mean," replied Grace hastily.
"I thought not," remarked the stranger complacently as she stolidly seated herself beside Miriam and deposited a traveling bag partly on the floor and partly on Grace's feet.
"These seats are ridiculously small," grumbled the stranger, bending over to jam her traveling bag more firmly into the space from which Grace had hastily withdrawn her feet.

Then straightening up suddenly, her heavily plumed hat collided with the hand in which Grace held Eleanor's letter, scattering the sheets in every direction.

With a little cry of concern Grace sprang to her feet and, stepping out in the aisle, began to pick them up.

Having recovered the last one she turned to her seat only to find it occupied by their unwelcome fellow traveler.
"I changed seats," commented the stout girl stolidly.

"I never could stand it to ride backwards." Grace looked first at the stranger then from Miriam to Anne.