the narrow confines of his lower berth. When he at last lay down, it seemed to him that his resting place was a slab of solid concrete, very thinly covered. He closed his eyes, but he snapped them open again as the racing engine emitted a sudden, shrieking blast, nearly startling him out of his berth. The locomotive continued to do this at five-minute intervals. The berth was intolerably stuffy. Harold raised a window and a blast of cold night air, mingled with cinders, struck him in the face. He closed the window again, preferring to suffocate. He lifted the shade on its rollers and looked out. The train was rushing at a terrific pace through a black void, here and there punctuated with bright lights as a town was entered and left behind almost at one swoop.
Harold lay awake for three-quarters of the night. When at last he dropped off to a; troubled sleep, his head was buzzing with the talk of Keay. In the back of his brain was the pleasing image of a very pretty girl with dark hair bordering on the Titian.
He was finally started out of his sleep by an object dropping to the floor beside his berth with the grace and lightness of a baby elephant. The traveling salesman in the berth above Harold was up for the day. Harold pushed the shade up cautiously. The bright
