“Good day, sir,” she said, as she got out.
“Good day,” echoed the rubicund man with relief, and we all drew a deep breath of relief with him in concert, as though we had just witnessed the safe descent of some over-daring aviator.
IV
As the train moved on, we six, who had been fellow-passengers for some thirty or forty minutes before the woman had entered our compartment, we who had not till then exchanged a word, broke suddenly into general conversation.
“Water on the brain; I don’t care what any one says,” asserted the rubicund man.
“My sister had one very similar”, put in the failure, who was sitting next to me. “It died,” he added, by way of giving point to his instance.
“Ought not to exhibit freaks like that in public,” said an old man opposite to me.
“You’re right, sir,” was the verdict of the artisan, and he spat carefully and scraped his boot on the floor; “them things ought to be kep’ private.”
“Mad, of course, that’s to say imbecile”, repeated the rubicund man.