PAGE 11
The Parlor-Car
by
PORTER: “Not quite so bad as that. We’ll be into Schenectady in a few minutes, miss. I’ll come for your things.” He goes out at the other door.
MISS GALBRAITH, in a fearful whisper: “Allen! What will he ever think of us? I’m sure he saw us!”
MR. RICHARDS: “I don’t know what he’ll think NOW. He DID think you were frightened; but you told him you were not. However, it isn’t important what he thinks. Probably he thinks I’m your long-lost brother. It had a kind of family look.”
MISS GALBRAITH: “Ridiculous!”
MR. RICHARDS: “Why, he’d never suppose that I was a jilted lover of yours!”
MISS GALBRAITH, ruefully: “No.”
MR. RICHARDS: “Come, Lucy,”–taking her hand,–“you wished to die with me, a moment ago. Don’t you think you can make one more effort to live with me? I won’t take advantage of words spoken in mortal peril, but I suppose you were in earnest when you called me your own- -own”–Her head droops; he folds her in his arms a moment, then she starts away from him, as if something had suddenly occurred to her.
MISS GALBRAITH: “Allen, where are you going?”
MR. RICHARDS: “Going? Upon my soul, I haven’t the least idea.”
MISS GALBRAITH: “Where WERE you going?”
MR. RICHARDS: “Oh, I WAS going to Albany.”
MISS GALBRAITH: “Well, don’t! Aunt Mary is expecting me here at Schenectady,–I telegraphed her,–and I want you to stop here, too, and we’ll refer the whole matter to her. She’s such a wise old head. I’m not sure” –
MR. RICHARDS: “What?”
MISS GALBRAITH, demurely: “That I’m good enough for you.”
MR. RICHARDS, starting, in burlesque of her movement, as if a thought had struck HIM: “Lucy! how came you on this train when you left Syracuse on the morning express?”
MISS GALBRAITH, faintly: “I waited over a train at Utica.” She sinks into a chair, and averts her face.
MR. RICHARDS: “May I ask why?”
MISS GALBRAITH, more faintly still: “I don’t like to tell. I” –
MR. RICHARDS, coming and standing in front of her, with his hands in his pockets: “Look me in the eye, Lucy!” She drops her veil over her face, and looks up at him. “Did you–did you expect to find ME on this train?”
MISS GALBRAITH: “I was afraid it never WOULD get along,–it was so late!”
MR. RICHARDS: “Don’t–tergiversate.”
MISS GALBRAITH: “Don’t WHAT?”
MR. RICHARDS: “Fib.”
MISS GALBRAITH: “Not for worlds!”
MR. RICHARDS: “How did you know I was in this car?”
MISS GALBRAITH: “Must I? I thought I saw you through the window; and then I made sure it was you when I went to pin my veil on,–I saw you in the mirror.”
MR. RICHARDS, after a little silence: ”
MISS GALBRAITH, do you want to know what YOU are?”
MISS GALBRAITH, softly: “Yes, Allen.”
MR. RICHARDS: “You’re a humbug!”
MISS GALBRAITH, springing from her seat, and confronting him. “So are you! You pretended to be asleep!”
MR. RICHARDS: “I–I–I was taken by surprise. I had to take time to think.”
MISS GALBRAITH: “So did I.”
MR. RICHARDS: “And you thought it would be a good plan to get your polonaise caught in the window?”
MISS GALBRAITH, hiding her face on his shoulder: “No, no, Allen! That I never WILL admit. NO woman would!”