After luncheon I strolled along the Embankment to Victoria. I caught the 2.30 to Brighton. As I was standing at the door of the carriage two other persons entered in front of me, brushing past me as they went When I had taken my seat a third person entered just as the train was starting. I was seated with my back to the engine, at the end which was farthest from the platform. The new-comer sat facing the engine at the other end of the carriage. He was a tall, slight, military-looking individual, with a slight moustache, and, as I could see under the brim of his top-hat, crisp, curly black hair. The two persons who had entered previously were seated in front of me at my end of the carriage.
I had some papers with me, but felt disinclined to read. I had had a heavy lunch, and the result was to make me drowsy. I fancy that I was all but dropping off, when someone spoke to me.
"Haven't we met before?"
I glanced up. The man speaking was the man in front of me, who sat nearest to the door. When I eyed him closely. I remembered him. He had sat next to me at a dinner which had been given, a few days previously, to Lord Labington, whose political exertions, as everyone is aware who is of the right way of thinking, have saved the country! An amusing neighbour I had found him. He had struck me as a fellow of lively wit and of infinite jest. I was glad to meet him again. I told him so.
"Awfully slow this kind of thing." I suppose he meant going down by rail to Brighton. He did! "This train is a dreadful slow-coach; takes no end of a time."
