good-looking, according to any of the standards by which he had
measured good looks. She was thin, too thin for his taste, and she
carried herself with an aloofness to which he was unaccustomed.
Her cheeks were quite pale, her hair of a soft shade of brown, her
eyes grey and sad. She gave him altogether an impression of
colourlessness, and he had been living in a land where colour and
vitality meant much. Her speech, too, in its very restraint, fell
strangely upon his ears.

"I have been travelling in an uncomfortable compartment," she
observed. "I happened to notice, when passing along the corridor,
that yours was empty. In any case, I am getting out at the next
station."

"So am I," he replied, still cheerfully. "I suppose the next
station is St. David's?"

She made no answer, but so far as her expression counted for
anything at all, she was a little surprised. Her eyes considered
him for a moment. Hamel was tall, well over six feet, powerfully
made, with good features, clear eyes, and complexion unusually
sunburnt. He wore a flannel collar of unfamiliar shape, and his
clothes, although they were neat enough, were of a pattern and cut
obviously designed to afford the maximum of ease and comfort with
the minimum regard to appearance. He wore, too, very thick boots,
and his hands gave one the impression that they were seldom gloved.
His voice was pleasant, and he had the easy self-confidence of a
person sure of himself in the world. She put him down as a colonial
--perhaps an American--but his rank in life mystified her.