"But I like Arthur," said Phyllis, and she smiled--the first time
Garnet had seen her do so.
Garnet also smiled to himself. Arthur was the hero. He was a young
writer. Ergo, Arthur was himself.
The train was beginning to slow down. Signs of returning animation
began to be noticeable among the sleepers. A whistle from the engine,
and the train drew up in a station. Looking out of the window, Garnet
saw that it was Yeovil. There was a general exodus. Aunty became
instantly a thing of dash and electricity, collected parcels, shook
Albert, replied to his thrusts with repartee, and finally headed a
stampede out of the door.
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