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The train whistled once, as though to warn me, and as it moved off it whistled a second time, a long whistle like a scream. And now may I tell you what I know about Marguerite Audoux, the author of the book you have just read? I know very little more of her than you do, for you have read the book, and Marguerite Audoux is Marie Claire.
Joyce looked up with a flashing glance, and turned to Ellen, who received the notice with a sniff and a restrained smile. "You have one, Ellen. We bought it on the train, It's full of pictures and short stories." "Yes 'm, I've got it. You left it on the seat and I picked it up." "And now your frugality is to be rewarded. But wouldn't it be prying, Mr. Dalton?" "Possibly.
Pshaw! one might as well ask what business Colorado JEWETT has to meddle with everybody's affairs, or GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN, or PAUL PRY, or WIKOFF. BURNSIDE against BISMARCK for diplomacy any time. What bad habit does a man contract when he falls into a way of praising everything and everybody? He takes to laud'n'm. Old Time Agitators again on their Muscle. Thanks to Henry Wilson.
He does it something after this fashion: "There was a fellow got on the train one night and he had a berth reserved for Buffalo; at least the way I heard it, it was Buffalo, though I guess, as a matter of fact, you might tell it on any other town just as well or no, I guess he didn't have his berth reserved, he got on the train and asked the porter for a reservation for Buffalo or, anyway, that part doesn't matter say that he had a berth for Buffalo or any other place, and the porter came through and said, 'Do you want an early call? or no, he went to the porter that was it and said "
This last car of the train was fairly well filled, but she had been fortunate in having a seat all to herself; she was glad this was so, for a person in the seat with her might have discovered how hard it was for her to keep back the tears. For Ruth Fielding was by no means one of the "crying kind," and she had forbidden herself the luxury of tears on this occasion.
At the close of the week, both the boys went home. They were on board the same train and the same car, but did not sit together. When they reached the house, Mr. Manning was not at home. Frank went out to the stable at once to see Richard Green, the coachman. He found him, indeed, but he also found another man, a stranger, who appeared to be employed in the stable.
He left the train reluctantly at the big, new station in San Francisco, and took a street car to the ferry depot. There he kept out of sight behind a newspaper in the entrance to the waiting room until he was permitted to pass through the iron gate to the big, resounding room where passengers for the train ferry were herded together like corralled sheep.
"Half-past eleven." "What do you mean by 'the bunch of us'?" "All you advance car fellows. I have got to do that. That is the only train through tonight. You will have to go on that or wait until tomorrow morning." "Very well; I do not know as I care whether my rivals go on the same train or not. It would do me no good if I did object."
He had hurried home, roused the women their servant had left them two days before packed some provisions, put his revolver under the seat luckily for my brother and told them to drive on to Edgware, with the idea of getting a train there. He stopped behind to tell the neighbours.
But, as it is, it only tells me that I may very probably keep the Sabbath by not keeping the appointment. But I must resume the real details of my tale. I found that there was only one train in the whole of that Sunday by which I could even get within several hours or several miles of the time or place.
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