"
She found herself comfortable and amazingly content, leaning
against his shoulder; and presently she went to sleep, he holding
the book in his free hand and reading calmly. The next thing she
knew he was shaking her gently. "Albany," he said. "We've got to
change here."
She rose sleepily and followed him from the car, adjusting her hat
as she went. She had thought she would be wretched; instead, she
felt fine as the sharp, night air roused her nerves and freshened
her skin. He led the way into the empty waiting-room; the porter
piled the bags on the bench; she seated herself. "I must send a
telegram," said he, and he went over to the window marked
"Telegraph Office." It was closed. He knocked and rattled, and
finally pounded on the glass with his umbrella handle.
Her nerves went all to pieces. "Can't you see," she called
impatiently, "that there's no one there?"
"There will be some one!" he shouted in reply, and fell to
pounding so vigorously that she thought the glass would surely
break. But it did not; after a while the window flew up and an
angry face just escaped a blow from the vibrating umbrella handle.
A violent altercation followed, the operator raging, but Craig
more uproarious than he and having the further advantage of a more
extensive and more picturesque vocabulary.
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