The three were courtesying in front of the ticket
window, some distance away from me, and I could not hear what they were
talking about.
The clock at the station showed the next train to start in five
minutes. Having lost my partner, I became impatient and longed for the
train to start as soon as possible, when a fellow rushed into the
station excited. It was Red Shirt. He had on some fluffy clothes,
loosely tied round with a silk-crepe girdle, and wound to it the same
old gold chain. That gold chain is stuffed. Red Shirt thinks nobody
knows it and is making a big show of it, but I have been wise. Red
Shirt stopped short, stared around, and then after bowing politely to
the three still in front of the ticket window, made a remark or two,
and hastily turned toward me. He came up to me, walking in his usual
cat's style, and hallooed.
"You too going to bath? I was afraid of missing the train and
hurried up, but we have three or four minutes yet. Wonder if that
clock is right?"
He took out his gold watch, and remarking it wrong about two minutes sat
down beside me. He never turned toward the belle, but with his chin on
the top of a cane, steadily looked straight before him. The older woman
would occasionally glance toward Red Shirt, but the younger kept her
profile away.
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