He was not, however, alone, and that surprised me.

By his side stood a girl, obviously Russian, wearing her Sister's uniform with excitement and eager anticipation, her eyes turning restlessly from one part of the platform to another, listening with an impatient smile to the remarks of her companion.
From where I stood I could hear his clumsy, hesitating Russian and her swift, preoccupied replies.

I came up to them.
"Mr.Trenchard ?" I asked.
He blushed, stammered, held out his hand, missed mine, blushed the more, laughed nervously.
"I'm glad ...

I knew ...

I hope...." I could feel that the girl's eyes were upon me with all the excited interest of one who is expecting that every moment of her new wonderful experience will be of a stupendous, even immortal quality.
"I am Sister Marie Ivanovna, and you are, of course, Mr.Durward," she said.