Do you know it at all? It's a tiny village in Devonshire; my guardian is
the Rector there."

"Crailing?" An odd expression crossed his face and he hesitated a
moment. At last, apparently coming to a decision of some kind, he said:
"Then I must wake you up when I go, as I'm getting out before that."

"Can I trust you?" she asked sleepily.

"Surely."

She had curled herself up on the seat with her feet stretched out in
front of her, one narrow foot resting lightly on the instep of the other,
and she looked up at him speculatively from between the double fringe of
her short black lashes.

"Yes, I believe I can," she acquiesced, with a little smile.

He tucked his travelling rug deftly round her, and, pulling on his
overcoat, went hack to his former corner, where he picked up the
neglected writing-pad and began scribbling in a rather desultory fashion.

Very soon her even breathing told him that she slept, and he laid aside
the pad and sat quietly watching her. She looked very young and childish
as she lay there, with the faint shadows of fatigue beneath her closed
eyes--there was something appealing about her very helplessness.
Presently the rug slipped a little, and he saw her hand groping vaguely
for it. Quietly he tiptoed across the compartment and drew it more
closely about her.