"It's a rotten death."
"Possibly. Otherwise, you emerge from the infirmary to find that A Jump for Life has already left the Edgware Road for Reading and is eagerly expected at Stockton-on-Tees, that the company for which you work is paying twenty-seven percent and that rehearsals for Kicked to Death begin on Monday. However."
I stopped. The girl was leaning back in her corner, laughing helplessly.
"It's all very fine to laugh," said I. "How would you like to be carried a county and a half beyond your station?"
"You should have asked before you got in."
"Asked?" said I. "The only person I didn't ask was the traffic superintendent himself. They said he was away on his holiday."
"They can't have understood what you said."
"I admit my articulation is defective—has been ever since a fellow backed into my car at Brooklands, did it twenty pounds' worth of damage, and then sent in a bill for a new tail-lamp. At the same time—"
Here another station roared by. I was too late to see the name. "I shall swear in a minute," said I. "I can feel it coming. I suppose we do stop somewhere, if only to coal, don't we?"
"Well, we may stop before, but I know we stop at Friars Rory, because that's where I get out."