And once she thought she saw Henri, but he walked away into the
shadows and disappeared. The train, looking as absurdly small and light
as all English trains do, was waiting out in the shed. There were no
porters, and Sara Lee carried her own bag.
She felt quite sure she had been mistaken about Henri, for of course
he would have come and carried it for her.
The train was cold and quiet. When it finally moved out it was under
way before she knew that it was going. And then suddenly Sara Lee's
heart began to pound hard.
It was a very cold and shivering Sara Lee who curled up, alone in her
compartment, and stared hard at Harvey's ring to keep her courage up.
But a curious thing had happened. Harvey gave her no moral support.
He brought her only disapproval. She found herself remembering none of
the loving things he had said to her, but only the bitter ones.
Perhaps it was the best thing for her, after all. For a sort of dogged
determination to go through with it all, at any cost, braced her to her
final effort.
So far it had all been busy enough, but not comfortable. She was cold,
and she had eaten almost nothing all day. As the hours went on and the
train slid through the darkness she realized that she was rather faint.
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