‘There is a special waiting here for General Matravers. I have had instructions to attach a coach for you.’

‘That is very delightful!’ she exclaimed. ‘Shall I follow you?’

The man piloted her across the track and handed her 杭州足浴名店 into an ordinary first-class compartment attached to the waiting 杭州下沙足浴特殊 train.

‘Sorry we’ve had to give the saloon to General Matravers,’ he explained. ‘Will you have any tea or coffee, or anything to eat?’

She gave an order to the refreshment boy whom he summoned, and threw herself down with a sigh of content into the corner seat. Presently a tall man in khaki, with his arm in a sling and leaning upon a stick, came up the platform, followed by two junior officers. He was shown at once into the saloon and a little murmur of animated conversation arose. Five minutes later the train glided away, leaving the two junior officers disconsolate upon the long, wooden platform; passed through the two stations, and, gathering speed at every moment, rushed away northwards.

Suzanne had more than once boasted that she had no nerves. She finished her 杭州桑拿论坛 coffee and sandwiches, lit a cigarette and curled herself up in 杭州男士养生SPA her corner. For a few moments she looked out into the

darkness, watching the scanty lights. Then her eyes turned, entirely by chance, towards the door which connected her carriage with the saloon. They had no sooner rested upon it than a queer, inexplicable sense of uneasiness crept over her. She tried to look away from it, to look out of the opposite window, to interest herself in the evening paper. She read a line or two, then found herself slowly lowering the sheet, found herself peering over the top towards that closed door of dark red mahogany with its brass handle. She threw the paper down, walked to the end of the carriage and back again. She must be going mad, she told herself. The only occupant of that saloon was a wounded soldier of great distinction, a 杭州桑拿体验报告 General whose deeds in the earlier stages of the war had made 杭州龙凤论坛贵族宝贝 history. He was alone there without even

an A.D.C., and in any case the door was probably locked. What cause of uneasiness for her could there be in his proximity? She fought against her fit of nerves valiantly, but she found herself tearing the paper into small pieces, crumbling the remains of her roll between her fingers, sipping desperately the remnants of her cold coffee. And all the time her eyes seemed glued upon that brass door-knob. If it should move! She set her teeth to keep from screaming. When the thing really happened, it seemed to bring, to a certain extent, release from her hysterical fears. Yet for the first few seconds it paralyzed her. The handle turned, slowly and deliberately. The door was pushed open towards her. A man looked in, stooping by reason of 杭州足浴特殊服务 his height, a lean, gaunt man clad in the uniform of a General. 杭州桑拿sn会所 He looked at her for a moment without speech. Then he came into the compartment and closed the door behind him.

‘What do you want?’ she asked hoarsely.

He saluted mechanically.

‘I am General Matravers,’ he announced. ‘May I sit down?’

She glanced at the communication cord—it was on the distant side of the carriage. Why she should have been afraid of him she could not tell, yet she felt as though she had never been in such danger in her life as when he took the seat opposite to her.

‘I am General Matravers,’ he repeated. ‘You have heard of me, perhaps?’

‘But naturally,’ she assented. ‘We have all read of your wonderful exploits at Mons.’

He moistened his lips with his tongue. His face seemed curiously dried up, his eyes were hard, his features grim and bony. He 杭州按摩一条街 presented somehow a queer impression of lifelessness.

‘Mons!’ 杭州非正规足浴店哪里有 he muttered ruminatingly. ‘You’ve never been to Hell, have you, young lady?’

‘Not yet,’ she answered, watching him closely.

‘That was the beginning of it,’ he went on. ‘We need a Dante, young lady, to sing to us of those days, when the winds were driven from the face of the earth by the screeching of the shells and the roar and the clash of the guns, and they seemed to be always nearer…. Every foot of ground was red with blood, the blood of our dear soldiers, and one thought of the people at home…. I know men who lost their reason at Mons.’

‘It must have been terrible,’ she faltered.