Her dismay at Knype Station! Her blush as she asked for a ticket to London!
The ironic, sympathetic glance of the porter, who took charge of her trunk!
And then the thunder of the incoming train!
Her renewed dismay when she found that it was very full, and her distracted plunge into a compartment with six people already in it!
And the abrupt reopening of the carriage- door and that curt inquisition from an inspector:
"Where for, please?
Where for?
Where for?" Until her turn was reached:
"Where for, miss?" and her weak little reply:
"Euston"!
And more violent blushes!
And then the long, steady beating of the train over the rails, keeping time to the rhythm of the unanswerable voice within her breast:
"Why are you here?
Why are you here?"
And then Rugby; and the awful ordeal of meeting Gerald, his entry into the compartment, the rearrangement of seats, and their excruciatingly painful attempts at commonplace conversation in the publicity of the carriage! (She had felt that that part of the enterprise had not been very well devised by Gerald.) And at last London; the thousands of cabs, the fabulous streets, the general roar, all dream-surpassing, intensifying to an extraordinary degree the obsession of unreality, the illusion that she could not really have done what she had done, that she was not really doing what she was doing!
Supremely and finally, the delicious torture of the clutch of terror at her heart as she moved by Gerald's side through the impossible adventure!
Who was this rash, mad Sophia?
Surely not herself!
The knock at the door was impatiently repeated.
"Come in," she said timidly.
Gerald Scales came in.
Yes, beneath that mien of a commercial traveller who has been everywhere and through everything, he was very nervous.
It was her privacy that, with her consent, he had invaded.
He had engaged the bedroom only with the intention of using it as a retreat for Sophia until the evening, when they were to resume their travels.
It ought not to have had any disturbing significance.
But the mere disorder on the washstand, a towel lying on one of the cane chairs, made him feel that he was affronting decency, and so increased his jaunty nervousness.
The moment was painful; the moment was difficult beyond his skill to handle it naturally.
Approaching her with factitious ease, he kissed her through her veil, which she then lifted with an impulsive movement, and he kissed her again, more ardently, perceiving that her ardour was exceeding his.
This was the first time they had been alone together since her flight from Axe.
And yet, with his worldly experience, he was naive enough to be surprised that he could not put all the heat of passion into his embrace, and he wondered why he was not thrilled at the contact with her!
However, the powerful clinging of her lips somewhat startled his senses, and also delighted him by its silent promise.
He could smell the stuff of her veil, the sarsenet of her bodice, and, as it were wrapped in these odours as her body was wrapped in its clothes, the faint fleshly perfume of her body itself.
Her face, viewed so close that he could see the almost imperceptible down on those fruit-like cheeks, was astonishingly beautiful; the dark eyes were exquisitely misted; and he could feel the secret loyalty of her soul ascending to him.
She was very slightly taller than her lover; but somehow she hung from him, her body curved backwards, and her bosom pressed against his, so that instead of looking up at her gaze he looked down at it.
He preferred that; perfectly proportioned though he was, his stature was a delicate point with him.
His spirits rose by the uplift of his senses. His fears slipped away; he began to be very satisfied with himself.
He was the inheritor of twelve thousand pounds, and he had won this unique creature.
She was his capture; he held her close, permittedly scanning the minutiae of her skin, permittedly crushing her flimsy silks.
Something in him had forced her to lay her modesty on the altar of his desire.
And the sun brightly shone.
So he kissed her yet more ardently, and with the slightest touch of a victor's condescension; and her burning response more than restored the self-confidence which he had been losing.
"I've got no one but you now," she murmured in a melting voice.
She fancied in her ignorance that the expression of this sentiment would please him.
She was not aware that a man is usually rather chilled by it, because it proves to him that the other is thinking about his responsibilities and not about his privileges.
Certainly it calmed Gerald, though without imparting to him her sense of his responsibilities.
He smiled vaguely.
To Sophia his smile was a miracle continually renewed; it mingled dashing gaiety with a hint of wistful appeal in a manner that never failed to bewitch her.
A less innocent girl than Sophia might have divined from that adorable half-feminine smile that she could do anything with Gerald except rely on him.
But Sophia had to learn.
"Are you ready?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders and holding her away from him.