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Updated: June 20, 2025
Kemp drew himself up and buttoned the coat of his faded serge suit. The porter, uncertain how to deal with the situation, looked around for help. The manager of the hotel emerged from the booking office at that moment, and the porter's appealing look was seen by him. The manager approached.
Have you tickets? No? follow me then. You're both over age, I believe. There you are; take care of them." And before Paul could protest, he had purchased tickets for all three, after which he laid an authoritative hand upon Mr. Bultitude's shoulder and walked him out through the booking hall upon the platform. "This is awful," thought Paul, shrinking involuntarily; "simply awful.
The weary porter came yawning out of his lamp room into the booking office, where the station master sat alone, his chair turned away from the open wicket window to the smouldering embers of the smoky fire. "No passengers to-night, seemingly," the latter remarked to his subordinate. "Not a sign of one," was the reply.
There was nothing suspicious in this, but the fellow had not come in by the entrance hall, and if he had been in the station, it was strange he had not got his ticket earlier. When his turn came, Foster asked for a ticket to Appleby in a husky voice, and when the booking clerk demanded, "Where?" looked over his shoulder. The man behind was leaning forward, as if to catch his reply.
Marion caught it, but her brother Gordon got it away; then Ferrall secured it and dived toward the red goal; but Rena Bonnesdel caught him under water; the ball bobbed up, and Sylvia flung both arms around it with a little warning shout and hurled it back at Siward, who shot forward like an arrow, his opponents gathering about him in full cry, amid laughter and excited applause from the gallery, where Grace Ferrall and Captain Voucher were wildly offering odds on the blue, and Alderdene and Major Belwether were thriftily booking them.
The company had a regularly established tariff of charges, and tickets from any one station to another could be bought at the booking offices just as on any other railway line in America or England. But few people bought tickets.
He spoke in quiet even tones such as would seem to suggest that he was well acquainted with his visitor. "Can I speak to you on the quiet for a moment, sir?" whispered Kemp hoarsely. Holymead looked round the room. The manager had gone back to the booking office and Hawkins had vanished. The few people who were in the room seemed occupied with their own affairs.
Went out like a snuffed candle, soon as he turned on his drive. Okay, go ahead and build one if you can. But don't bother booking passage for me." "You mean you'd stay behind if I built a hyperspace ship?" "Sure I would." There was no hesitation in Rat's voice. "I like this particular space-time continuum very much.
The "station" then consisted of the small house by the side of the bridge which crosses the railway, and the only means of entrance or exit to the line was by this steep stair, which was about three feet wide. The "booking office" was on the level of the road, by the side of the bridge, where Tennyson "Hung with grooms and porters," while he "Waited for the train at Coventry."
"Well, she's a common thief and worse, that's what she is, and by this time to-morrow I hope to see her safe in gaol. Ah! here comes the train. Good-night, Jones. I can manage for myself now." "What's his game?" said Jones to himself as he watched his master slip on to the platform by a gate instead of going through the booking office.
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