"Leave a thing lying there and somebody else will grab it who has got no right to it.
That's an old trick."
Then, with a friendly little nod of the head, he had moved away.
That, too, had been nice of him.
She might have suspected otherwise that he had not let her take his winnings in order to scrape acquaintance with her.
But he wasn't that kind of man.
He was nice.
And here he was, sitting opposite to her.
And now it was all over, the money spent, a last two days - rather disappointing days - in Paris, and now home on her return air ticket.
"And what next?"
"Stop," said Jane in her mind. "Don't think of what's going to happen next.
It'll only make you nervous."
The two women had stopped talking.
She looked across the gangway.
The Dresden-china woman exclaimed petulantly, examining a broken finger nail.
She rang the bell, and when the white-coated steward appeared she said:
"Send my maid to me.
She's in the other compartment."
"Yes, my lady."
The steward, very deferential, very quick and efficient, disappeared again.
A dark-haired French girl dressed in black appeared.
She carried a small jewel case.
Lady Horbury spoke to her in French:
"Madeleine, I want my red morocco case."
The maid passed along the gangway. At the extreme end of the car were some piled-up rugs and cases. The girl returned with a small dressing case.
Cicely Horbury took it and dismissed the maid. "That's all right, Madeleine. I'll keep it here."
The maid went out again.
Lady Horbury opened the case and from the beautifully fitted interior she extracted a nail file.
Then she looked long and earnestly at her face in a small mirror and touched it up here and there - a little powder, more lip salve.
Jane's lips curled scornfully; her glance traveled farther down the car.
Behind the two women was the little foreigner who had yielded his seat to the county woman.
Heavily muffled up in unnecessary mufflers, he appeared to be fast asleep.
Perhaps made uneasy by Jane's scrutiny, his eyes opened, looked at her for a moment, then closed again.
Beside him sat a tall, gray-haired man with an authoritative face.
He had a flute case open in front of him and was polishing the flute with loving care.
Funny, Jane thought, he didn't look like a musician - more like a lawyer or a doctor.
Behind these two were a couple of Frenchmen, one with a beard and one much younger - perhaps his son.
They were talking and gesticulating in an excited manner.
On her own side of the car, Jane's view was blocked by the man in the blue pullover - the man at whom, for some absurd reason, she was determined not to look.
"Absurd to feel so - so excited. I might be seventeen," thought Jane disgustedly.
Opposite her, Norman Gale was thinking:
"She's pretty - really pretty.
She remembers me all right.
She looked so disappointed when her stakes were swept away. It was worth a lot more than that to see her pleasure when she won.
I did that rather well. She's very attractive when she smiles - no pyorrhoea there - healthy gums and sound teeth... Damn it, I feel quite excited. Steady, my boy."
He said to the steward, who hovered at his side with the menu, "I'll have cold tongue."
The Countess of Horbury thought:
"What shall I do?
It's the hell of a mess. The hell of a mess.
There's only one way out that I can see.