"I'll go West," I said to myself. "There I am bound to find
material." And go I did, taking an emigrant ticket to Chicago. It
was December, and I should like you to imagine what a journey of
a thousand miles by an emigrant train meant at that season. The
cars were deadly cold, and what with that and the hardness of the
seats I found it impossible to sleep; it reminded me of tortures
I had read about; I thought my brain would have burst with the
need of sleeping. At Cleveland, in Ohio, we had to wait several
hours in the night; I left the station and wandered about till I
found myself on the edge of a great cliff that looked over Lake
Erie. A magnificent picture! Brilliant moonlight, and all the
lake away to the horizon frozen and covered with snow. The clocks
struck two as I stood there.'
He was interrupted by the entrance of a servant who brought
coffee.
'Nothing could be more welcome,' cried Dora. 'Mr Whelpdale makes
one feel quite chilly.'
There was laughter and chatting whilst Maud poured out the
beverage. Then Whelpdale pursued his narrative.
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