She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. The flush deck was without wells. "You can shave him, you know. The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. Time after time he reminded her of how powerless she would be without him, how unkind the world was towards single women. . You have neither reason nor logic. If any of you—or all of you feel the same in six months’ time from to-day, will you come, if you care to, and see me then?” There was a brief silence.
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