were pushing frantically to come down; we were shoving to get up.

The lady called St. Ives was thumping my shoulders.

"Climb up the railing," she said.

Somehow I did it, and leaned down to catch her hands and drag her upwards.
We launched ourselves breathlessly on to the furthest seat.

Stout old Macclesfield was the next. He had lost his hat and his white hair
was ruffled.

"I'm here," he said. "Macclesfield for ever!"

The flapper had scrambled up the front staircase against the rules. She
cast herself down beside Macclesfield.

"Here I am, old dear," she exclaimed. "I left York simply _jammed_ in the
wedge. Oh, isn't it fun? I never laughed so much. We never _can_ be serious
with each other after this, can we?"

St. Ives nodded.

"I'll never forget Pontresina climbing the rail," she said. "I used to
think him so haughty; now--"

"Albemarle Road--don't you want Albemarle Road?" the conductress was asking
me. She spoke very loudly.

"Pontresina--I'm Pontresina," I answered.