The Dean seemed to smile perpetually now.

He occupied the lower part of the section across the aisle, and Kit loved to watch him as he sat by the window, his little black skullcap making him look like a portrait of an old-time French savant.

Every now and then he would glance up and meet her eyes with a little smile of mutual understanding.

It was as if they, too, were united in a close bond of sympathy, ever since they had solved the mystery of Amenotaph and Ra's circle.
When lunch time drew near Kit opened the train basket.

There were fruit and home-made preserves, little tempting jars of sweet pickles and stuffed olives, home-made fruit cake and jars of club cheese with thin wafers that just matched them.