I rushed, stumbled, rocked into her place; she sank with a gasp into mine.
"York to St. Ives!"
It was the paterfamilias who was up now, and the elderly relative was
signing to him. In a breathless scurry she was in his place gasping beside
me. For the first time in her life she spoke to me.
"What an escape!" she said. "There, _he'_s caught--York, I mean. I don't
know his proper name. It's odd, isn't it, we know each other's faces so
well and yet we don't know each other's names. Now that we have towns for
names, it will be far more friendly, won't it? I always called you Cicero
to myself. Oh, I hardly know why--you looked a little satirical sometimes.
But now you're Pontresina, of course."
"Macclesfield to Pernambuco!"
"There!" laughed my companion. "I knew Macclesfield would be caught--he's
so stately, isn't he? But look how he's laughing. Do you know I never
thought any of the people in this car _could_ laugh, or even smile. I do
think this Society for the Abolition of Boredom in Public Conveyances is an
excellent thing, don't you?"
"Pontresina to St. Ives!"
Breathlessly we changed places; her black hat was a little crooked, but she
only laughed.
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