"I'm not angry," she whispered. "It was my fault."
The guard blew his whistle and waved his flag. Humphrey's heart was bursting with the hideous intrusion of modernity.
"Good-night," she said. "Good-night and thank you. It's been beautiful."
There was just a second left to him, and he made use of it. She was leaning out of the window, and he swung himself on to the footboard and whispered—
"Lilian—I love you. I'll write to you to-night."
Before she could reply, there were cries of "Stand away there," and the train swung out of the station.
That night Humphrey wrote his first love-letter, and told her all the things he had been wanting to say for weeks.