“You can’t do any other. Never mind, lad. The next time you go down to London I’ll let you have a night on the razzle. Or you can take Susan along and have a little holiday. You’ve earned it. See you tonight then. Be good.”

“I’ll try.” I answered automatically; and hung up.

All the first-class compartments seemed to be full; finally I got a seat in a non-smoker and nodded off into an uneasy sleep. When I awoke everyone else in the compartment was reading type­written reports or the evening paper; one man was actually making notes in red ink. There was a bulging briefcase above him in the luggage rack; a thick calf-bound book protruded from it. A lawyer, probably, on his way to get some poor bastard hanged. The bearded man next to me took a tin of peppermints from his pocket, opened it, and inspected the contents.

He put one in his mouth and returned to the newspaper. He read as if he thoroughly disapproved of its contents. I closed my eyes, surprised at the intensity of my hatred. I opened them when the ticket-collector tapped my shoulder; I couldn’t find my ticket immediately and as I hunted through my wallet I seemed to detect a half-ashamed enjoyment of my discomfiture on the faces of my companions. I knew what was in their minds; either I hadn’t got a first-class ticket or I hadn’t a ticket at all. That would make their day for them, that would give them something to talk about at the club.

The lawyer wasn’t making notes any longer; he was glancing first at me and then at his neighbour, a bald man with gold-rimmed glasses. The words were on his lips: Extraordinary how one can tell, let’s admit it . . . There’s a lot of that sort of thing these days. . . .

I found the ticket. The anticipation on the lawyer’s face van­ished. It was a pink, plump face with heavy lidded eyes; I began to be frightened. There was no good reason to be frightened; I was a respectable and responsible citizen, father of two children, candidate for the St. Clair Ward, returning from a successful busi­ness trip. I had as much right to be here as anyone else; why did I feel out of place? Outside the fields were flat under a pale sun; there was no one about. It was reasonable enough for no one to be about in the city; but surely someone should be work­ing in the fields? Perhaps the deficiency might be noticed soon and someone might take some assorted farm workers out of a box. Or a leopard. Or an elephant. Or a platoon of soldiers. I looked at my watch; half an hour until dinner.