The Prince was approaching, his great bulk thrusting aside the lesser human atoms in the station. Ruth was amazed to see that his curious travelling costume was finished by a top hat and wondered whether he would wear it in the train and in the sleigh from North Adams. Over the collar of his fur-lined overcoat his huge face rose, placid and self-satisfied, until he spied the waiting group with Gloria not among them. “Has she not yet come?” he asked. “The time of the train is immediate; we will miss it.” “Gloria has decided to take the evening train,” said Terry. “Then I also will wait.” “No, she especially asked that we all go ahead just as planned. Here’s George to take care of everything,” said Ruth. “Did she send to me no personal message?” “No; just that,” Ruth took pleasure in watching his face, like a cloud-flecked moon, in its annoyance. “We were all to go ahead and explain to Mrs. Peyton-Russell that Gloria will arrive in the morning.” Just then the gate was opened and Prince Aglipogue, still frowning, followed them reluctantly through it, in front of George and the two porters, who were helping him carry travelling bags. When they were all comfortably disposed in their seats Ruth began to fear that it would be rather an unpleasant journey, for Prince Aglipogue, unhappy himself, was determined that the others should be, too, if he could make them so. Only the amused light in Terry’s eyes gave her courage. Prince Aglipogue began with a monologue about rotten trains, stupid country houses, beastly cold and the improbability of Gloria’s coming at all, and finally worked himself up into a state of agitation bordering on tears, which would have made Ruth laugh had she not been afraid. “It is unkind of her to leave us this way. For herself she sleeps comfortably at home, while I rise at this unchristian hour for her sake,” he protested, more to himself than to the others, for he seemed determined to ignore them. His next phase was one of annoyance at his own discomfort. Why had not the Peyton-Russells themselves provided a drawing-room for him? They were “filthy” with money, and he was not accustomed to travelling in this public manner in spite of the fact that he was only a poor artist. Then he became worried about his luggage, which had consisted of a single dressing-case. He had entrusted it to George, and who knew what had become of it? He lurched off in search of George some place in the rear cars to find out. “I’d buy him a drawing-room just to get rid of him, if there was any graceful way of doing it,” said Terry. “I’m afraid this is not going to be the pleasantest of parties.”