"We only stay one night at Turin," said Caroline Spalding, the elder.
"And we shall have to start at ten,—to get through to Florence to-morrow," said Olivia, the younger. "Isn't it cruel, wasting all this time when we might be in bed?"
"It is not for me to complain of the cruelty," said Mr. Glascock.
"We should have fared infinitely worse if we hadn't met you," said Caroline Spalding.
"But our republican simplicity won't allow us to assert that even your society is better than going to bed, after a journey of thirty hours," said Olivia.
In the meantime Trevelyan was roaming about the station moodily by himself, and the place is one not apt to restore cheerfulness to a moody man by any resources of its own. When the time for departure came Mr. Glascock sought him and found him; but Trevelyan had chosen a corner for himself in a carriage, and declared that he would rather avoid the ladies for the present. "Don't think me uncivil to leave you," he said, "but the truth is, I don't like American ladies."
"I do rather," said Mr. Glascock.
"You can say that I've got a headache," said Trevelyan. So Mr. Glascock returned to his friends, and did say that Mr. Trevelyan had a headache. It was the first time that a name had been mentioned between them.
"Mr. Trevelyan! What a pretty name. It sounds like a novel," said Olivia.
"A very clever man," said Mr. Glascock, "and much liked by his own circle. But he has had trouble, and is unhappy."