"Yes, I will do so."
Tristrem took her hand in his. "Tell her from me," he began, but words failed him, it was his face that completed the message. In a moment more he was in the coach on his way to the station.
There was a brisk drive along the sea, a curve was rounded, and the station stood in sight. And just as the turn was made Tristrem caught the shriek of a whistle.
"There she goes," the negro exclaimed, "you ought to have been spryer."
"Has the train gone?" Tristrem asked.
"Can't you see her? I knew you'd be late." The man was insolent in his familiarity, but Tristrem did not seem to notice it.
"I would have given much not to be," he said.
At this the negro became a trifle less uncivil. "Would you ree-ly like to catch that train?" he asked.
"I would indeed."
"Is it worth twenty-five dollars to you?"