The 9.43
men. But I was in a state of mind bordering on the irritable.
Eliza came down-stairs, dressed for going out, asked me why I was not ready, and said we should miss the 9.43.
"Indeed!" said I. "And what, precisely, might you mean by the 9.43?"
"I mean, precisely, the train which leaves here for the city at seventeen minutes to ten."
"One of your usual mistakes," I replied. "The train is 9.53, and not 9.43."
"Have you a time-table?" she asked.
"No."
"Because if you had a time-table I could show you that you are wrong. Why, I know it's the 9.43."
"If I had a time-table I could show you most certainly that it is the 9.53. Not that you'd believe it, even then. You're too obstinate, Eliza—too certain of yourself!"
"Look here!" I observed, after she had argued that point at some length, "let us
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