She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. She told the porter to take it to the booking-office, and it was only after a disconcerting moment or so that she found she ought to have directed him to go to the cloak-room. "I'll tote the odiousness outside. "Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips.
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