It began to move. Gilbert leaned out of the window and waved his hand for a long time, to a forlorn little girl in a brown coat and skirt who stood upon the platform crying bitterly.
The waiter of the dining-car, knowing his man well, brought Lothian a large whiskey and soda before the long train was free of the sordid Northwest suburbs.
Lothian drank it, arranged about dinner, and sank back against the cushions. He lit a cigarette and drew the hot smoke deep into his lungs.
The train was out of the town area now. There was no more jolting and rattling over points. Its progress into the gathering night was a continuous roar.
Onwards through the gathering night. . . .
"I'd be your wife, Gilbert, and I'd love you—if you were free."
CHAPTER V
THE NIGHT JOURNEY FROM NICE WHEN MRS. DALY SPEAKS WORDS OF FIRE
"Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud,