"I wanted to get away," he said. "I had walked fourteen miles, and
there was no other train. I am very sorry to intrude upon you. The
train was moving when I reached the platform, and I jumped."
She shrugged her shoulders slightly and raised her book once more. But
from over its top she found herself watching very soon this strange
travelling companion of hers. The trousers above his clumsy boots were
frayed and muddy, his black clothes were shiny and antiquated in
cut--these, and his oddly-arranged white tie, somehow suggested the
cleric. But when she reached his face her eyes lingered there. It
puzzled and in a sense attracted her. His features were cleanly cut and
prominent, his complexion was naturally pale, but wind and sun had
combined to stain his cheeks with a slight healthy tan. His eyes were
deep-set, keen and bright, the eyes of a visionary perhaps, but afire
now with the instant excitement of living. A strange face for a man of
his apparently humble origin. Whence had he come, and where was he
going? The vision of his face as he had leaped into the carriage
floated again before her eyes. Surely behind him were evil things,
before him--what? She took up her novel again, but laid it down almost
immediately.
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