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Updated: May 28, 2025
Louis travelled little, but it was his foible to be learned in boat-trains and "connections." "A friend o' mine's motoring me to Stafford at five to-morrow morning, if you want to know. I shall catch the Scotch express. Anything else?" "Oh!" muttered Louis, checked. Julian clanked the gate and vanished up the street, Mrs. Maldon waving. "What friend? What motor?" reflected Mrs. Maldon sadly.
It was the hour of the boat-trains to Holland, to Hamburg, and there seemed to be no lack of people, fearless, reckless, or ignorant, who wanted to go to these places. The station was normally crowded, and if there was a great flutter of evening papers in the multitude of hands there were no signs of extraordinary emotion on that multitude of faces.
John's Ambulance for that of a naval lieutenant. They come to carry me out. What an extraordinarily funny way to enter London on a stretcher! I've arrived on boat-trains from America, troop trains from Canada, and come back from romantic romps in Italy, but never in my wildest imaginings did I picture myself arriving as a wounded soldier on a Red Cross train.
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