"Oh, do go back and try to get them!" moaned the widow glancing wildly at the train, which by this time was being switched onto a side track.
"It will be at the risk of my life," declared the bachelor, "but if you want—any more——"
"More—what?" asked the widow, distractedly.
"Proof," said the bachelor.
"It isn't necessary," said the widow, as she spied an excited porter running toward them, clutching a pongee coat, a silver hand bag and a violet parasol.
"These," said the bachelor, taking them tenderly from the porter and tipping him, "are the most substantial signs of——"
"A lost head," said the widow quickly.
"Or a lost heart," added the bachelor, as they crossed the station and stepped fatuously on to—the wrong ferryboat.