Once on his way, the hard seat and the contemptible society surrounding him, assured his reflective spirit that he loved:  otherwise, was it in reason that he should endure these hardships?  “I really love the girl,” he said, fidgeting for cushions.

He was hot, and wanted the window up, to which his fellow-travellers assented.  Then, the atmosphere becoming loaded with offence to his morbid sense of smell, he wanted the windows down; and again they assented.  “By Jove!  I must love the girl,” ejaculated Algernon inwardly, as cramp, cold, and afflicted nostrils combined to astonish his physical sensations.  Nor was it displeasing to him to evince that he was unaccustomed to bare boards.

“We’re a rich country,” said a man to his neighbour; “but, if you don’t pay for it, you must take your luck, and they’ll make you as uncomfortable as they can.”

“Ay,” said the other.  “I’ve travelled on the Continent.  The second-class carriages there are fit for anybody to travel in.  This is what comes of the worship of money—­the individual is not respected.  Pounds alone!”

“These,” thought Algernon, “are beastly democrats.”

Their remarks had been sympathetic with his manifestations, which had probably suggested them.  He glowered out of the window in an exceedingly foreign manner.  A plainly dressed woman requested that the window should be closed.  One of the men immediately proceeded to close it.  Algernon stopped him.

“Pardon me, sir,” said the man; “it’s a lady wants it done;” and he did it.

A lady!  Algernon determined that these were the sort of people he should hate for life.  “Go among them and then see what they are,” he addressed an imaginary assembly of anti-democrats, as from a senatorial chair set in the after days.  Cramp, cold, ill-ordered smells, and eternal hatred of his fellow-passengers, convinced him, in their aggregation, that he surmounted not a little for love of Rhoda.

The train arrived in London at dusk.  Algernon saw Rhoda step from a carriage near the engine, assisted by Robert; and old Anthony was on the platform to welcome her; and Anthony seized her bag, and the troop of passengers moved away.  It may be supposed that Algernon had angry sensations at sight of Robert; and to a certain extent this was the case; but he was a mercurial youth, and one who had satisfactorily proved superior strength enjoyed a portion of his respect.  Besides, if Robert perchance should be courting Rhoda, he and Robert would enter into another field of controversy; and Robert might be taught a lesson.

He followed the party on foot until they reached Anthony’s dwelling-place, noted the house, and sped to the Temple.  There, he found a telegraphic message from Edward, that had been awaiting him since the morning.

“Stop It,” were the sole words of the communication brief, and if one preferred to think so, enigmatic.

“What on earth does he mean?” cried Algernon, and affected again and again to see what Edward meant, without success.  “Stop it?—­stop what?—­Stop the train?  Stop my watch?  Stop the universe?  Oh! this is rank humbug.”  He flung the paper down, and fell to counting the money in his possession.  The more it dwindled, the more imperative it became that he should depart from his country.