feeling a little remorseful, and
bestowing a regretful thought upon the man whom she was driving away
from all the coolness and comfort which she was experiencing? If he
could be sure of that, he could forgive her; but, as likely as not,
she was driving cheerfully about the country behind Marsden's colt,
smiling, perhaps, as she recalled the series of misadventures which
had marked her acquaintance with the supercilious stranger whose
civility she and her colt had put to rout.

Flint's morbid musings had taken more time than he realized, for at
this point, to his surprise, the conductor thrust his head in at the
door shouting, _New_ London, as if the passengers were likely to
mistake it for the older city on the other Thames. Here a boy came
aboard the train with a basket laden with oranges, scalloped
gingerbread, and papers of popcorn labelled, "Take some home."

The misguided youth tried to insinuate a package into Flint's lap, but
was met with an abrupt demand to remove it with haste. His successor,
bearing a load of New York afternoon papers, fared better. Flint
selected an "Evening Post," and, leaning back in his corner, strove
to find oblivion from the wriggling of the small child in front, and
the wailing of the infant in the rear of the car.

Hotter and hotter, the blistering sun beat upon the station; and, as
though the misery were not already great enough, an engine, panting
apparently with the heat, must needs draw up close beside Flint's
window.

In vain did he try to concentrate his attention upon the Condition of
the Finances, the Great Strike in Pittsburg, or the Latest Dynamite
Plot in Russia. Between him and the printed page rose the vision of
cool, translucent waves crawling up the long reach of damp sand to
break at last upon the little shelf of slippery stones. Could it be
that only yesterday he was tumbling about in that surf, and to-day
_here_? He thought vaguely what a good moral the contrast would have
pointed to the sixteenthly of one of his great ancestor's sermons;
then he fell to wondering if the old gentleman's theology would have
stood the strain of an experience like this. Fancy even this carful
doomed to an eternal August journey! Ah, the car is moving again!
Thank Heaven for that! Purgatory after Hell approaches Paradise.

On and on the train jogs, over flat marshes, past white-spired
churches, and factory chimneys belching forth their quota of heat and
smoke. The twin rocks, which