The Parlor Car | Page 5

had any sleep
since it happened, I should think I--"
MISS GALBRAITH: "Oh! You were sleeping soundly enough when I
got into the car!"
MR. RICHARDS: "I own it; I was perfectly used up, and I HAD
dropped off."
MISS GALBRAITH, scornfully: "Then perhaps you HAVE dreamed
it."
MR. RICHARDS: "I'll think so till you tell me again that our
engagement is broken; that the faithful love of years is to go for
nothing; that you dismiss me with cruel insult, without one word of
explanation, without a word of intelligible accusation, even. It's too
much! I've been thinking it all over and over, and I can't make head or
tail of it. I meant to see you again as soon as we got to town, and
implore you to hear me. Come, it's a mighty serious matter, Lucy. I'm
not a man to put on heroics and that; but I believe it'll play the very
deuce with me, Lucy,--that is to say, Miss Galbraith,--I do indeed. It'll
give me a low opinion of woman."
MISS GALBRAITH, averting her face: "Oh, a very high opinion of
woman you have had!"
MR. RICHARDS, with sentiment: "Well, there was one woman whom
I thought a perfect angel."
MISS GALBRAITH: "Indeed! May I ask her name?"
MR. RICHARDS, with a forlorn smile. "I shall be obliged to describe
her somewhat formally as--Miss Galbraith."
MISS GALBRAITH: "Mr. Richards!"
MR. RICHARDS: "Why, you've just forbidden me to say LUCY! You
must tell me, dearest, what I have done to offend you. The worst
criminals are not condemned unheard, and I've always thought you
were merciful if not just. And now I only ask you to be just."

MISS GALBRAITH, looking out of the window: "You know very well
what you've done. You can't expect me to humiliate myself by putting
your offence into words."
MR. RICHARDS: "Upon my soul, I don't know what you mean! I
DON'T know what I've done. When you came at me, last night, with
my ring and presents and other little traps, you might have knocked me
down with the lightest of the lot. I was perfectly dazed; I couldn't say
anything before you were off, and all I could do was to hope that you'd
be more like yourself in the morning. And in the morning, when I came
round to Mrs. Philips's, I found you were gone, and I came after you by
the next train."
MISS GALBRAITH: "Mr. Richards, your personal history for the last
twenty-four hours is a matter of perfect indifference to me, as it shall be
for the next twenty-four hundred years. I see that you are resolved to
annoy me, and since you will not leave the car, I must do so." She rises
haughtily from her seat, but the imprisoned skirt of her polonaise
twitches her abruptly back into her chair. She bursts into tears. "Oh,
what SHALL I do?"
MR. RICHARDS, dryly: "You shall do whatever you like, Miss
Galbraith, when I've set you free; for I see your dress is caught in the
window. When it's once out, I'll shut the window, and you can call the
porter to raise it." He leans forward over her chair, and while she
shrinks back the length of her tether, he tugs at the window-fastening.
"I can't get at it. Would you be so good as to stand up,--all you can?"
Miss Galbraith stands up, droopingly, and Mr. Richards makes a
movement towards her, and then falls back. "No, that won't do. Please
sit down again." He goes round her chair and tries to get at the window
from that side. "I can't get any purchase on it. Why don't you cut out
that piece?" Miss Galbraith stares at him in dumb amazement. "Well, I
don't see what we're to do: I'll go and get the porter." He goes to the
end of the car, and returns. "I can't find the porter,--he must be in one
of the other cars. But"-- brightening with the fortunate
conception--"I've just thought of something. Will it unbutton?"
MISS GALBRAITH: "Unbutton?"
MR. RICHARDS: "Yes; this garment of yours."
MISS GALBRAITH: "My polonaise?" Inquiringly, "Yes."
MR. RICHARDS: "Well, then, it's a very simple matter. If you will just

take it off I can easily" -
MISS GALBRAITH, faintly: "I can't. A polonaise isn't like an
overcoat" -
MR. RICHARDS, with dismay: "Oh! Well, then"--He remains thinking
a moment in hopeless perplexity.
MISS GALBRAITH, with polite ceremony: "The porter will be back
soon. Don't trouble yourself any further about it, please. I shall do very
well."
MR. RICHARDS, without heeding her: "If you could kneel on that
foot- cushion, and face the window" -
MISS GALBRAITH, kneeling promptly: "So?"
MR. RICHARDS: "Yes, and now"--kneeling beside her--"if you'll
allow me to--to get at