ejaculated. And then, in deepest contrition: "I won't attempt to
apologize--it's beyond all that. But you must let me make your loss
good."

In all the pin-pricking embarrassment of the moment, he did not fail to
remark that she quickly recovered the serenity which belongs to the
well-bred. She was even smiling, rather ruefully, when she said:

"Fortunately, the conductor has my passes. But really"--and now she
laughed outright--"I am afraid I shall have to go hungry if I can't
borrow enough to pay for my dinner."

Another man, a man less purposefully lost in the purely practical
labyrinth of professional work, would have found something fitting to
say. But Ford, having discovered a thing to do, did it painstakingly and
in solemn silence. There was an unoccupied table for two in the
dining-car; he seated her, gave her his purse, called a waiter, and
would have betaken himself forthwith to another table if she had not
detained him.

"No," she said decisively, with a charming little uptilt of the adorable
chin. "I do not forget that you were trying to do me a kindness. Please
sit down here and take your purse. I'm sure I don't want it."

He obeyed, still in somber silence, gave his dinner order after she had
given hers, and was wondering if he might venture to bury himself in a
bundle of the data papers, when she spoke again.

"Are you provoked with yourself, or with me?" she asked--rather
mockingly, he thought.