What he saw was
distinct in quality. It seemed to him that an actual sympathy and
friendliness looked out from her dark and quiet eyes, as though by
instinct she understood with what an eager exultation he set out upon his
holiday. Sylvia, indeed, living as she did within herself, was inclined
to hero-worship naturally; and Chayne was of the type to which, to some
extent through contrast with the run of her acquaintance, she gave a high
place in her thoughts. A spare, tall man, clear-eyed and clean of
feature, with a sufficient depth of shoulder and wonderfully light of
foot, he had claimed her eyes the moment that he entered the buffet.
Covertly she had watched him, and covertly she had sympathized with the
keen enjoyment which his brown face betrayed. She had no doubts in her
mind as to the intention of his holiday; and as their eyes met now
involuntarily, a smile began to hesitate upon her lips. Then she became
aware of the buffet, and her ignorance of the man at whom she looked,
and, with a sudden mortification, of her own over-elaborate appearance.
Her face flushed, and she lowered it again somewhat quickly to the pages
of her book. But it was as though for a second they had spoken.
Chayne, however, forgot Sylvia Thesiger. As the train moved on to Le
Fayet he was thinking only of the plans which he had made, of the new
expeditions which were to be undertaken, of his friend John Lattery and
his guide Michel Revailloud who would be waiting for him upon the
platform of Chamonix.
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