MISS GALBRAITH, hiding her face on his shoulder: "No, no, Allen!
That I never WILL admit. NO woman would!"

MR. RICHARDS: "Oh, I dare say!" After a pause: "Well, I am a poor,
weak, helpless man, with no one to advise me or counsel me, and I
have been cruelly deceived. How could you, Lucy, how could you? I
can never get over this." He drops his head upon her shoulder.

MISS GALBRAITH, starting away again, and looking about the car:
"Allen, I have an idea! Do you suppose Mr. Pullman could be induced
to SELL this car?"

MR. RICHARDS: "Why?"

MISS GALBRAITH: "Why, because I think it's perfectly lovely, and I
should like to live in it always. It could be fitted up for a sort
of summer-house, don't you know, and we could have it in the garden,
and you could smoke in it."

MR. RICHARDS: "Admirable! It would look just like a travelling
photographic saloon. No, Lucy, we won't buy it; we will simply keep
it as a precious souvenir, a sacred memory, a beautiful dream,--and
let it go on fulfilling its destiny all the same."

PORTER, entering, and gathering up Miss Galbraith's things: "Be at
Schenectady in half a minute, miss. Won't have much time."

MISS GALBRAITH, rising, and adjusting her dress, and then looking
about the car, while she passes her hand through her lover's arm:
"Oh, I do HATE to leave it. Farewell, you dear, kind, good, lovely