that mirth which is more truly labour than any prayer. Then I turned to the purple Penfentenyou at the window, and wiped my eyes on the rug edge.
He raised the window half one cautious inch and bellowed through the crack: 'Did you see him? Have they got you? I can see lots of things from here. It's like a three-ring circus!'
'Can you see the station?' I replied, nodding toward the right rear mudguard.
He twisted and craned sideways, but could not command that beautiful view.
'No! What's it like?' he cried.
'Hell!' I shouted. The silvery-haired woman frowned; so did Penfentenyou, and, I think, apologised to her for my language.
'You're always so extreme,' he fluted reproachfully. 'You forget that nothing matters except the Idea. Besides, they are this lady's bees.'
He closed the window, and introduced us through it in dumb show; but he contrived to give the impression that I was the specimen under glass.
A spurt of damp steam saved me from apoplexy. The train had lost patience at last, and was coming into the station directly beneath me to see what was the matter. Happy voices sang and heads were thrust out all along the compartments, but none answered their songs or greetings. She halted, and the people began to get out. Then they began to get in again, as their friends in the waiting-rooms advised. All did not catch the warning, so there was congestion at the doors, but those whom the bees caught got in first.
