“Zurich,” said Jack, as he produced their tickets; “about what time do we get there?”
“Are you going straight through?” the guard inquired as he punched a page in each little book and restored the library to their rightful possessor.
“Yes.”
“Then why did you not take the express?”
Jack fairly bounded in his seat.
“The express!” he ejaculated. “Great Scott, do you mean to say that we are not on it!!!”
“Oh, no,” said the guard, “you are upon the way-train that follows half an hour later. The express arrives at two-forty; this train gets in between seven and eight at night.”
Nothing could bear deeper testimony to the state of Rosina’s crushed sensibilities than the way in which she received this bit of information. While Jack swore violently she continued to look out of the window with an indifference that was entirely genuine.
“To think that that other train must have been right there within a hundred feet of us!” cried her cousin.
She did not turn an eyelash.