Sometimes
dim objects flew past, and now and then sharp, vivid lights stabbed the
darkness. Once the smelting-pots of a huge iron foundry belched forth a
circle of swirling flames, and for a moment wrenched his mind off his
problems. Then the regular pounding of the wheels on the rails recalled
him.
"She's gone to be married. Gone--to be married. Gone--to be married."
He realized that they had been saying it in monotonous rhythm ever since
he started--that they would go on saying it through eternity.
Suddenly the train jarred to a standstill. Figures with lanterns emerged
through a cloud of steam and stood under his window.
"Guess we got a hot-box," said a sleepy passenger across the aisle. "That
means I'll miss my connection."
Quin got up and went out on the platform. He was filled with rage at the
lazy deliberation with which the men set about their task. He longed to
wrench the tools out of their hands and do the job himself.
"How much will this put us behind?" he demanded of the conductor.
"Oh, not more than twenty minutes. We'll make some of it up before
morning."
Once more under way, Quin dropped into a troubled sleep.
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