"If Mrs. Minchin wants a friend--and to-night I think she must--if ever
she did or will! Well, if she does, I for one would be her friend--if
she would trust me!"
The last words were the lowest of all; and in the tone of them there was
a timbre which thrilled Rachel as the dark eyes fascinated her. She
began to feel a strange repugnance--and yet more strange attraction. But
to the latter her independence gave instant battle--a battle the easier
to fight since the next station was Rachel's destination.
"Do you think she would trust me?" he almost whispered leaning towards
her. "As a woman--don't you think she might?"
As Rachel hesitated the carriages began to groan beneath the brake; and
her hesitation was at an end. So also was her limited capacity for
pretence. She sat more upright in her corner, her shoulders fell in
angles, and beneath the veil, which she had raised to read her paper,
her eyes carried the war of interrogation into the enemy's country.
"I seem to have seen you before," said Rachel, cool of tongue but hot at
heart.
"I think it very possible that you have."
"Were you at the trial?"
"From first to last!"
The pause that followed was really broken by the lights of Sloane Square
station.
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