empty, and I hopped out to buy some Murray's at the newsstand.
Saw the prettiest flapper of my life on the platform--the real
English type; tweed suit, dark hair, gray eyes, and cheeks like
almond blossoms. She had on a blue tam-o' shanter. Loveliest
figure I ever saw, perfect ankle, but the usual heavy brogues on
her feet. Why do English girls always wear woollen stockings? Was
so taken with her I almost missed the train. She got into a
third-class compartment farther up the train. The others were all
bickering in the smoking carriage, so they didn't see her.

I scored over the rest of the crowd when we got to Wolvers. They
had all brought heavy portmanteaus, containing all their vacation
baggage. My idea was, go light when chasing the Grail. Had only
my rucksack, left rest of my stuff at coll., to be forwarded
later. While the other chaps were getting their stuff out of the
goods van I spotted Miss Flapper getting off the train. She got
into a hansom. Just by dumb luck I was standing near. I heard her
say to cabby: "318, Bancroft Road!" Lord, was I tickled? I kept
mum.

Most of the fellows took cabs, on account of their luggage, but
Goblin and I hoofed it. Wolverhampton seems a dingy place for
Kathleen to live! Fine old church, though, and lovely market
place. We kept our eyes open for Bancroft Road, but saw no sign.

When we got to the Blue Boar, lunch was all ready for us in the
coffee room. Landlord tickled to death at our arrival. Wonderful
cheddar cheese, and archdeacon ale. We made quite a ceremony of
it--all drank Kathleen's health, and on the stroke of two we got
up from the table.