accepted.

Towards three o'clock we worked our way round to the station, and
began looking for our train. We hunted all over the place, but
could not find it anywhere. The central station at Munich is an
enormous building, and a perfect maze of passages and halls and
corridors. It is much easier to lose oneself in it, than to find
anything in it one may happen to want. Together and separately B.
and I lost ourselves and each other some twenty-four times. For
about half an hour we seemed to be doing nothing else but rushing up
and down the station looking for each other, suddenly finding each
other, and saying, "Why, where the dickens have you been? I have
been hunting for you everywhere. Don't go away like that," and then
immediately losing each other again.

And what was so extraordinary about the matter was that every time,
after losing each other, we invariably met again--when we did meet--
outside the door of the third-class refreshment room.

We came at length to regard the door of the third-class refreshment
room as "home," and to feel a thrill of joy when, in the course of
our weary wanderings through far-off waiting-rooms and lost-luggage
bureaus and lamp depots, we saw its old familiar handle shining in
the distance, and knew that there, beside it, we should find our
loved and lost one.

When any very long time elapsed without our coming across it, we
would go up to one of the officials, and ask to be directed to it.

"Please can you tell me," we would say, "the nearest way to the door