t-r-a-i-n

Updated: May 4, 2025

There was a wordless moment, then the sound of a distant whistle, of nearer shouts of "T-r-a-i-n." The dark mustache, the unsinged side, was sweeping very, very near the soft curve of those parted lips. "What ransom will you pay?" he murmured. "I've not yet felt these arms about my neck. I've kissed you, heaven be praised, but, Miriam, have you ever kissed me?" "T-r-a-i-n! Train, train!

Charles King - Lanier of the Cavalry: or, A Week's Arrest