He reached out across his little rail and caught her by the arm. It was
a natural act enough--not polite, to be sure, by no means chivalrous.
Still, he probably put into his grip no more strength than he thought
necessary to prevent her walking by into the car.

But it had a surprising result--a result that normally would not have
happened. Yet, on this particular day, it could not have happened
differently. It had been a red-letter day from the beginning, from no
assignable cause an exciting joyous day, and the thrill of the hard fast
game, the shower, the rub, the walk, had brought her up to what
engineers speak of as a "peak."

Well, the conductor didn't know that. If he had, he would either have
let the girl go by, or have put a good deal more force into his attempt
to stop her. And the first thing he knew, he found both his wrists
pinned in the grip of her two hands; found himself staring stupidly into
a pair of great blazing blue eyes--it's a wrathful color, blue, when you
light it up--and listening uncomprehendingly to a voice that said,
"Don't dare touch me like that!"

The episode might have ended right there, for the conductor's
consternation was complete. If she could have walked straight into the
car, he would not have pursued her. But her note-books were scattered
everywhere and had to be gathered up, and there were two or three of the
passengers who thought the situation was funny, and laughed, which did
not improve the conductor's temper.

Rose was aware, as she gathered up her note-books, of another hand that
was helping her--a gloved masculine hand. She took the books it held out