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PAGE 2

The Parlor-Car
by [?]


MR. ALLEN RICHARDS:
“Will you allow me to open the window for you?” Starting back, “Miss Galbraith!”

MISS GALBRAITH: “Al–Mr. Richards!” There is a silence for some moments, in which they remain looking at each other; then, –

MR. RICHARDS: “Lucy” –

MISS GALBRAITH: “I forbid you to address me in that way, Mr. Richards.”

MR. RICHARDS: “Why, you were just going to call me Allen!”

MISS GALBRAITH: “That was an accident, you know very well,–an impulse” –

MR. RICHARDS: “Well, so is this.”

MISS GALBRAITH: “Of which you ought to be ashamed to take advantage. I wonder at your presumption in speaking to me at all. It’s quite idle, I can assure you. Everything is at an end between us. It seems that I bore with you too long; but I’m thankful that I had the spirit to not at last, and to act in time. And now that chance has thrown us together, I trust that you will not force your conversation upon me. No gentleman would, and I have always given you credit for thinking yourself a gentleman. I request that you will not speak to me.”

MR. RICHARDS: “You’ve spoken ten words to me for every one of mine to you. But I won’t annoy you. I can’t believe it, Lucy; I can NOT believe it. It seems like some rascally dream, and if I had had any sleep since it happened, I should think I–“

MISS GALBRAITH: “Oh! You were sleeping soundly enough when I got into the car!”

MR. RICHARDS: “I own it; I was perfectly used up, and I HAD dropped off.”

MISS GALBRAITH, scornfully: “Then perhaps you HAVE dreamed it.”

MR. RICHARDS: “I’ll think so till you tell me again that our engagement is broken; that the faithful love of years is to go for nothing; that you dismiss me with cruel insult, without one word of explanation, without a word of intelligible accusation, even. It’s too much! I’ve been thinking it all over and over, and I can’t make head or tail of it. I meant to see you again as soon as we got to town, and implore you to hear me. Come, it’s a mighty serious matter, Lucy. I’m not a man to put on heroics and that; but I believe it’ll play the very deuce with me, Lucy,–that is to say,

MISS GALBRAITH,
–I do indeed. It’ll give me a low opinion of woman.”

MISS GALBRAITH, averting her face: “Oh, a very high opinion of woman you have had!”

MR. RICHARDS, with sentiment: “Well, there was one woman whom I thought a perfect angel.”

MISS GALBRAITH: “Indeed! May I ask her name?”

MR. RICHARDS, with a forlorn smile. “I shall be obliged to describe her somewhat formally as–Miss Galbraith.”

MISS GALBRAITH: “Mr. Richards!”

MR. RICHARDS: “Why, you’ve just forbidden me to say LUCY! You must tell me, dearest, what I have done to offend you. The worst criminals are not condemned unheard, and I’ve always thought you were merciful if not just. And now I only ask you to be just.”

MISS GALBRAITH, looking out of the window: “You know very well what you’ve done. You can’t expect me to humiliate myself by putting your offence into words.”

MR. RICHARDS: “Upon my soul, I don’t know what you mean! I DON’T know what I’ve done. When you came at me, last night, with my ring and presents and other little traps, you might have knocked me down with the lightest of the lot. I was perfectly dazed; I couldn’t say anything before you were off, and all I could do was to hope that you’d be more like yourself in the morning. And in the morning, when I came round to Mrs. Philips’s, I found you were gone, and I came after you by the next train.”