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300 taste. My personal appearance is simply gentlemanly, without anything remarkable about it. It has been my constant study to be gentlemanly but usual; and to be called a "rummy old passenger" was under the circumstances an irritating thing. However, I maintained a dignified silence.

It was a very cold night, and having regard to the strong dash of negro blood in my fellow-passenger's veins, thought it would irritate her if I let down the window.

Accordingly, I did so.

"Thank you, old passenger," she said: "I like fresh airs. I let this one down too!" And she lowered the other window.

I couldn't stand the draught so I put up my window—and she put up hers. Something like this occurs in "Box and Cox."

I was sulkily furious by this time. In half-an-hour we should reach Stafford, and I determined to change my carriage at that station. In the meantime I tried to sleep, but the foreign lady kept up such an incessant clatter that sleep was out of the question.

"Where you going, old passenger? You not tell? Secret, eh? Ah, sly old dog! You old cashier, perhaps,, bolting with bank moneys, eh? Confidential clerk with employer's cash-box in portmanteau, eh? Old boy going up north to marry old gir1 on the sly, eh? Bagman and ashamed of it, perhaps, eh, you old passenger? Bah! Bagman good as anybody else! Never be ashamed—look at me! Me not blush at myself. What you say I am?—eh? You not guess.