“Say?  Why, the truth—­that I was glad; and then Mr. Thundercloud
    looked blacker than ever.

“I had several stations to pass before we reached Creil, where I was to change cars and take the express.  I settled myself comfortably, so that I could look out of the window, and I whiled away the time by reviewing the whole of my acquaintance with Mr. Kenderdine.  I was forced to admit that I had acted imprudently in not letting him know from the beginning what my life was to be, but I never thought it would matter to him.  Then my conscience reproached me for the lie I had implied:  I might have told him the truth, and spared him the mortification of believing that I preferred some one else.  I knew, in thinking of it calmly, that it was not to avoid an argument that I had done it, but to make him feel as badly as possible, because I was angry at him for stopping my horse.  It was mean in me, especially as that De Vezin was the person he would pitch on.  You see, I had made a good deal of De Vezin while in Paris, but it was only to improve my French accent—­a fact which poor Fred could not know.

“The train whizzed on.  The night grew dark:  I could scarcely distinguish objects outside the blurred window, but I still remained attentive to the voice of the conductor as he called out the names of the successive stations until—­until I heard no more:  I had fallen asleep.

“I suppose I slept profoundly for about half an hour, when I was suddenly awakened by a jerk:  the cars had stopped.  I was not aware I had been sleeping, but I had an undefined sense that something was wrong.  I hastily opened the window and heard the name Liancourt shouted.  There was no such stopping-place between Paris and Creil, for I had studied up my route before starting.  The truth flashed upon me, and impulsively I left my car, rushed to the conductor, and asked, ‘What place is this?’

    “‘Liancourt.’

    “‘And where is Creil?’

    “‘We have passed it.  Did you want to go there?’

    “‘Of course I did.  Why did you not call it?’

    “‘We did call it,’ said he indignantly:  ‘you must have been asleep.’

    “‘No such thing,’ I replied, for at the moment I did not think it
    could be possible.

“There was but little time for reflection.  Should I go on to the next large town, or should I stay?  If I went on, I should get to my destination in the middle of the night, and, knowing nothing of the place, might have great difficulty in finding lodgings.  If I stayed, I might get a train back or a carriage, or even find here a hotel of some kind where they would accommodate me until morning.  I decided to remain, and off went the cars.

“One of the ticket-agents came forward from the office—­as I supposed to offer his services:  there were but few people about, but all understood my situation.  As I said, the man came forward and bowed:  ‘Your fare, if you please.’

    “I handed him my ticket:  he stood before me and repeated, ’Your
    fare, if you please.’