He would have asked more, but it did not seem wise, so he decided to inquire at the depot.
The train rolled into the yards, clanging and puffing.
“I think we had better go right on through to Montreal,” he said to Carrie. “I’ll see what the connections are when we get off.”
He was exceedingly nervous, but did his best to put on a calm exterior. Carrie only looked at him with large, troubled eyes. She was drifting mentally, unable to say to herself what to do.
The train stopped and Hurstwood led the way out. He looked warily around him, pretending to look after Carrie. Seeing nothing that indicated studied observation, he made his way to the ticket office.
“The next train for Montreal leaves when?” he asked.
“In twenty minutes,” said the man.
He bought two tickets and Pullman berths. Then he hastened back to Carrie.
“We go right out again,” he said, scarcely noticing that Carrie looked tired and weary.
“I wish I was out of all this,” she exclaimed gloomily.