first class, but it evidently belonged to an ancient order of rolling stock, and the vivacious Marie criticized it with considerable freedom. The wind howled, positively howled, in the station.

“I wish I wasn’t going,” said the lady. “I shall be horribly ill.”

“You probably will,” I said, to tease her, idly opening the Globe. “It seems that the morning steamer from Calais wasn’t able to make either Dover or Folkestone, and has returned to Calais. Imagine the state of mind of the passengers!”

“Ugh! Oh, Mr. Foster, what is that case by your side?”

“It is a jewel-case.”

“What a big one!”