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Updated: May 16, 2025
It was only when we arrived in Marseilles that the bewildered conductor, a most reliable servant of the wagon-lit company, recovered from his lethargy and could not in the least account for his long heavy sleep. He had, it appeared, smelt the same pleasant perfume of roses as Mr. Blumenfeld.
Arrived at the Gare du Nord, Lola was met by an elderly Englishwoman whom I recollected as having been a guest at Overstow, and after hurried farewells drove away in a car, while we took taxis across to the big hotel at the Gare de Lyon. There we dined, and at half-past eight joined the Marseilles express upon which was a single wagon-lit.
You may notice these people studying the book on the boat perhaps, certainly in the train; they even let the book interfere with the proper attention that is due to meals; and allow me to remark here that the wagon-lit people are very sound on the question of food.
The carriage was an ordinary "wagon-lit" converted with considerable ingenuity into a Hospital Train. He shared his compartment with a young Guardee, "a sitting case." He had no sooner settled down than a voice was heard calling for "Second-Lieutenant Hackett." "Here," replied the Guardee, without any enthusiasm.
"She'll have to stay in all to-day and perhaps tomorrow. Isn't it hard upon her? Paris amuses her so much." John expressed his sympathy. "Now if it had been you or I," he ended, "we shouldn't have minded. Paris doesn't amuse us just now." "Oh, but, John, we must be ready to start at any moment." "You can't start without Miss Bussey," "I think that in a wagon-lit " began Mary.
Thus freed from anxiety, we enjoyed at the Hôtel Continental a prolonged sleep, which was haunted by pleasing dreams. By eight o'clock that evening we found ourselves at the Gare de Lyon, disposing our belongings in a compartment of the wagon-lit which ended its course at Ventimiglia.
Now, as he lay in his narrow berth in the wagon-lit jolting toward Constantine, he read some of Adelaide Shiffney's prose. Faintly, for the train was noisy, he heard voices in the next compartment, where Mrs. Shiffney and Madame Sennier were talking in their berths. Mrs. Shiffney was in the top berth. That fact gave the measure of Madame Sennier's iron will.
The growth of large businesses has raised a portion of this class to the position of Sir John Blundell Maple, Sir Thomas Lipton, the intimate friend of our King, and our brewer peers; it has raised a rather more numerous section to the red plush glories of Wagon-Lit trains and their social and domestic equivalents, and it has reduced the bulk of the class to the status of employees for life.
As The Sparrow lay that night in the wagon-lit he tried to sleep, but the roar and rattle of the train prevented it. Therefore he calmly thought out a complete and deliberate plan. From one of his friends in London he had had secret warning that the police, on the day he left Charing Cross, had descended upon Shapley Manor and had arrested Mrs.
What is to be desired is not cosmopolitanism, not the absence of all national characteristics that one associates with couriers, wagon-lit attendants, and others, who have had everything distinctive obliterated by multiple and trivial contacts with men of every civilized country. Such cosmopolitanism is the result of loss, not gain.
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