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But to-day, as I think over that smoking-car argument, I can see it in a different light.
The trainboy was discovered in a corner of the smoking-car and they purchased apples, chocolate caramels and salted peanuts, as well as two humorous weeklies, and found a seat in the car and settled down to business. They were both frightfully hungry, since excitement had prevented full justice to breakfasts.
He walked over to the white passenger, with whom he was evidently acquainted, since he addressed him by name. "Captain McBane," he said, "it's against the law for you to ride in the nigger car." "Who are you talkin' to?" returned the other. "I'll ride where I damn please." "Yes, sir, but the colored passenger objects. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to go into the smoking-car."
If so, it would call for a vast amount of luck to overcome their combined numbers and dexterity. Morgan was troubled by this same question as he waited in the saddle where the sun bore hot upon him at the side of the station platform. About there, at that point, the station agent had told him, the smoking-car would stand when the train came to a stop, the engine at the water tank.
At intervals during the day he left her to go into the smoking-car to enjoy his pipe. The view from the window was, on the whole, rather monotonous. But it would have had to be varied indeed to match the mental pictures that Nora's flying thoughts conjured up for her. The dead level of her life at Tunbridge Wells had been a curious preparation for the violent changes of the last few months.
I fell in with him one day in a smoking-car and got to talking about my travels. He was preparing a lecture on China, and as he had never been there, I was useful, so he took me into his house until he had pumped me dry. I substituted for him that night at your college for half the fee was to read his lecture, but when I got started on it I couldn't stand it. An astonishing man, Harassan!
He was all unconscious that he presented a figure which would seem ludicrous in the great world to which he had looked with such eagerness. The lamps burned murkily about the railroad station, and a heavy fog cloaked the hills. At last he heard the whistle and saw the blazing headlight, and a minute later he had pushed his way into the smoking-car and dropped his saddlebags on the seat beside him.
"Now, if you will excuse me for a few minutes, I will go into the smoking-car and have a smoke." When he had left the car, Luke immediately left his seat, and went forward to where the farmer was sitting. "Excuse me," he said, "but I saw you talking to a young man just now." "Yes," answered the farmer complacently, "he's a relative of President Madison." "I want to warn you against him.
But I suppose Pilkington is now sitting in the smoking-car of an east-bound train, trying to get the porter to accept his share in the piece instead of a tip!" If Otis Pilkington was not actually doing that, he was doing something like it. Sunk in gloom, he bumped up and down on an uncomfortable seat, wondering why he had ever taken the trouble to make the trip to Rochester.
The train was in the Reuton suburbs now. At a neat little station it slowed down to a stop, and a florid policeman entered the smoking-car. Cargan looked up. "Hello, Dan," he said. His voice was lifeless; the old-time ring was gone. The policeman removed his helmet and shifted it nervously. "I thought I'd tell you, Mr. Cargan," he said "I thought I'd warn you. You'd better get off here.
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