They walked up and down the platform, each one more and more embarrassingly concerned with the awkwardness of his friend’s presence. They reached the end of the footway, and paused in sheer absent-mindedness. Stephen’s vacant eyes rested upon the operations of some porters, who were shifting a dark and curious-looking van from the rear of the train, to shunt another which was between it and the fore part of the train. This operation having been concluded, the two friends returned to the side of their carriage.
“Will you come in here?” said Knight, not very warmly.
“I have my rug and portmanteau and umbrella with me: it is rather bothering to move now,” said Stephen reluctantly. “Why not you come here?”
“I have my traps too. It is hardly worth while to shift them, for I shall see you again, you know.”
“Oh, yes.”
And each got into his own place. Just at starting, a man on the platform held up his hands and stopped the train.
Stephen looked out to see what was the matter.
One of the officials was exclaiming to another, “That carriage should have been attached again. Can’t you see it is for the main line? Quick! What fools there are in the world!”
“What a confounded nuisance these stoppages are!” exclaimed Knight impatiently, looking out from his compartment. “What is it?”
“That singular carriage we saw has been unfastened from our train by mistake, it seems,” said Stephen.