"So you've got here!" he said.

She was staring at him, her face upraised. What was there about
him that did not somehow tally with the Guy of her memory and her
dreams? He was older, of course; he was more mature, bigger in
every way. But she missed something. There was no kindling of
pleasure in his eyes. They looked upon her kindly. Ah, yes; but
the rapture--where was the rapture of greeting?

A sense of coldness went through her. Her hands fell from his. He
had changed--he had changed indeed! His eyes were too keen. She
thought they held a calculating expression. And the South African
sun had tanned him almost bronze. His chin had a stubbly look.
The Guy she had known had been perfectly smooth of skin.

She looked at him with a rather piteous attempt to laugh. "I
wonder I knew you at all," she said, "with that hideous embryo
beard. I'm sure you haven't shaved to-day."

He put up a hand and felt his chin. "No, I shaved yesterday," he
said, and laughed. "I've been too busy to-day."

That reassured her. The laugh at least was like Guy, brief though
it was. "Horrid boy!" she said. "Well, help me collect my things.
We'll talk afterwards."

He helped her. He went into the carriage she had just left and
pulled out all her belongings. These he dumped on the platform and
told her to wait while he collected the rest.