"At last," said I to Ephrinell, "the forty-two packages of Strong,
Bulbul & Co. have come into port. But it is a wonder the explosion of
our engine did not smash your artificial teeth."
"Just so," said the American, "my teeth had a narrow escape. What
adventures they have had since we left Tiflis? Decidedly this journey
has been less monotonous than I expected."
"And," added the major, "you were married on the way--unless I am
mistaken!"
"Wait a bit!" replied the Yankee in a peculiar tone. "Excuse me; we are
in a hurry."
"We will not keep you, Mr. Ephrinell," I replied, "and to Mrs.
Ephrinell and yourself allow us to say au revoir!"
"Au revoir!" replied the Americanized lady, rather more dryly at her
arrival than at her departure.
Then, turning, she said:
"I have no time to wait, Mr. Ephrinell."
"Nor have I, Mrs. Ephrinell," replied the Yankee.
Mr.! Mrs.! And not so long ago they were calling each other Fulk and
Horatia.
And then, without taking each other's arm, they walked out of the
station. I believe he turned to the right and she to the left; but that
is their affair.
There remains my No. 8, Sir Francis Trevellyan, the silent personage,
who has not said a word all through the piece--I mean all through the
journey.
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