"You've got the ticket all right?"
"Rather!" and I drove away amidst cheers. Cheers of sorrow.
It was half an hour's drive to the station. For the first ten minutes I thought how sickening it was to be leaving the country; then I had a slight shock; and for the next twenty minutes I tried to remember how much a third single to the nearest part of London cost. Because I had left my ticket on the dressing-table after all.
I gave my luggage to a porter and went off to the station-master.
"I wonder if you can help me," I said. "I've left my return ticket on the dress—Well, we needn't worry about that, I've left it at home."
He didn't seem intensely excited.
"What did you think of doing?" he asked.
"I had rather hoped that YOU would do something."
"You can buy another ticket, and get the money back afterwards."
"Yes, yes; but can I? I've only got about one pound six."