Several people were running past me, making haste to board the train before it departed and, perhaps unable to see me through the mist, one collided with me, knocking my case from my hand and letting her own fall at the same time.
"Excuse me," she said, not sounding particularly apologetic, but I did not mind too much for it was obvious she did not want to miss her train. I reached for her suitcase, which had fallen to my left, and handed it across to her, and as I did so I noticed the monogrammed initials, etched red in the dark-brown leather . HB. I stared at them, wondering briefly why those initials meant something to me.
You have just read a letter signed H Bennet some five minutes ago...
Btw, she finds this out by herself a couple of pages later.
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