Murder in Paris #972822

Catherine did not at first know what to make of Geoffrey Macadam. Did his stiffness betoken mere British reserve, or was he trying to hide a natural annoyance at having a stranger thrust upon him, threatening the peace of his journey to Paris?
If the latter, she longed to tell him how hotly she shared his resentment, how for eight days across the Atlantic she had been fleeing from the officious patronage of the lady now needlessly effecting the introduction.
“It’s no fault of mine,” her eyes strove to convey. “I promise not to take advantage of it!”
The very next instant she caught that curious, almost startled look on his face which set her wondering, asking herself if he were really as wooden as she had imagined.
That look one may take as the starting point of the story…
Mrs. Hugh Tyler Pope—the Hugh rendered as Huge by some of their fellow-travellers—was no more to be denied than the forces of nature. She overcame by sheer weight of fatuity, and having constituted herself Catherine’s protectress on the voyage was determined to see matters through. Useless for the girl to protest that she wanted no assistance in finding her seat. Overborne by the pressure of a mighty bust she was propelled the full length of the train, while a voice richly-oiled with kind intentions shouted for the benefit of all and sundry: