"I had several stations to pass before we reached Creil, where I was to change cars and take the express. I settled myself comfortably, so that I could look out of the window, and I whiled away the time by reviewing the whole of my acquaintance with Mr. Kenderdine. I was forced to admit that I had acted imprudently in not letting him know from the beginning what my life was to be, but I never thought it would matter to him. Then my conscience reproached me for the lie I had implied: I might have told him the truth, and spared him the mortification of believing that I preferred some one else. I knew, in thinking of it calmly, that it was not to avoid an argument that I had done it, but to make him feel as badly as possible, because I was angry at him for stopping my horse. It was mean in me, especially as that De Vezin was the person he would pitch on. You see, I had made a good deal of De Vezin while in Paris, but it was only to improve my French accent--a fact which poor Fred could not know. "The train whizzed on. The night grew dark: I could scarcely distinguish objects outside the blurred window, but I still remained attentive to the voice of the conductor as he called out the names of the successive stations until--until I heard no more: I had fallen asleep. "I suppose I slept profoundly for about half an hour, when I was suddenly awakened by a jerk: the cars had stopped. I was not aware I had been sleeping, but I had an undefined sense that something was wrong. I hastily opened the window and heard the name Liancourt shouted. There was no such stopping-place between Paris and Creil, for I had studied up my route before starting. The truth flashed upon me, and impulsively I left my car, rushed to the conductor, and asked, 'What place is this?' "'Liancourt.' "'And where is Creil?' "'We have passed it. Did you want to go there?' "'Of course I did. Why did you not call it?' "'We did call it,' said he indignantly: 'you must have been asleep.' "'No such thing,' I replied, for at the moment I did not think it could be possible. "There was but little time for reflection. Should I go on to the next large town, or should I stay? If I went on, I should get to my destination in the middle of the night, and, knowing nothing of the place, might have great difficulty in finding lodgings. If I stayed, I might get a train back or a carriage, or even find here a hotel of some kind where they would accommodate me until morning. I decided to remain, and off went the cars. "One of the ticket-agents came forward from the office--as I supposed to offer his services: there were but few people about, but all understood my situation. As I said, the man came forward and bowed: 'Your fare, if you please.'