GUARD. Going to get out, ma’am?
LADY. Yes, I should prefer the ladies’ compartment.
GUARD. No room there, ma’am; eight of ’em already, besides babies!
LADY. I may get into another carriage, I presume?
GUARD. Certainly, ma’am. Good-day, ma’am (goes out at door).
LADY. Stop! stop! Help me out! Guard! guard! (calling).
GUARD (outside). Can’t stop now, ma’am. Train just going on.
LADY. This is really too bad! Can’t even change carriages on this line, which seems to be especially patronized by the criminal classes! But pshaw! I’m alarming myself unnecessarily. Is it likely that this gentleman—and he is a gentleman—who seems to be on intimate terms with the wife of Edmund Ironsides—can possibly have any connection with— How absurd of me! I really ought to be ashamed of myself. (Seeing the paper-knife which the GENTLEMAN has left on seat.) What a strange-looking paper-knife—quite a formidable weapon! Is it a paper-knife? it looks more like a stiletto! (Taking up paper-knife very carefully between her finger and thumb, and then quickly dropping it again). Such an instrument as that was never made to cut leaves! It looks much adapted to— (Shuddering.) How ridiculous of me! My silly fears are running away with me again. Ha, ha, ha! (forcing a laugh).
GUARD (without). Take your seats!
GENTLEMAN hurries in at C. The LADY suddenly stops laughing, and gets as far as she can into her corner.