intended commiseration.

"Good God!" he heard Joe groan, but he did not catch the words, "she's
gone without me!"

The next instant the distracted eloper was on his feet demanding a
special engine.

"I've got to have it!" he shouted.

Windomshire's wits returned. Why not have a special too? It was the
only way.

"You can order one for me, too," he exclaimed. "At once. It's
imperative."




CHAPTER III

THE MORNING AFTER


The sun was peeping over the hilltops and shooting his merry glance
across the rain-soaked lowlands when Eleanor Thursdale awoke from her
final snatch of slumber. A hundred feverish lapses into restless
subconsciousness had marked the passage of nearly as many miles of
clatter and turmoil. Never before had she known a train to be so
noisy; never before had she lain awake long enough to make the natural