CHAPTER VII.
A Dissolution of Partnership.
Scene—A Second-Class Compartment on the line between Wurzburg and Nuremberg. Podbury has been dull and depressed all day, not having recovered from the parting with Miss Trotter. Culchard, on the contrary, is almost ostentatiously cheerful. Podbury is intensely anxious to find out how far his spirits are genuine, but—partly from shyness, and partly because some of their fellow travellers have been English—he has hesitated to introduce the subject. At last, however, they are alone, and he is determined to have it out on the very first opportunity.
Culchard. Abominably slow train, this Schnell-zug. I hope we shall get to Nuremberg before it's too dark to see the general effect.
Podbury. We're not likely to be in time for table d'hôte—not that I'm peckish. (He sighs.) Wonder whereabouts the—the Trotters have got to by now, eh?
[He feels he is getting red, and hums the Garden Scene from Faust."
Culch. (indifferently). Oh, let me see—just arriving at St. Moritz, I expect. Wonderful effect of colour, that is.
[He indicates the West, where a bar of crimson is flaming between a belt of firs.