A Daughter of Delilah — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A FALSE TELEGRAM. ) figure of a fine-looking young fellow, tall, straight, and handsome. The eyes were dark and brilliant, a little too brilliant, perhaps; the face was regular in its outline, but the classical beauty was half lost by the strong evidence in every feature of self-indulgence. The delicate curves round the severely straight nose were too deep for a man. of eight-and-twenty, and to-night Edgar Alston’s face wore that unmistakable flush that is neither the glow of health nor exercise. He had been drinking wine rather _ freely at a countryside hotel a mile or so from Bridgley. ‘How long have I to wait for the next train to Cincin- nati?’’ he said, thrusting his head into the ticket-office. ‘‘Last train gone, sir,’’ replied the station-agent, locking his desk and shutting down the light in the office. “ButI must get there to-night, at once!’’ Edgar cried. ‘“Hang it, man, what am Itodo? I was told that there was a train at ten o’clock.’’ ‘Then you were told wrong,’’ was the answer of the im- perturbable station-agent. This was not the first time that he had seen a man angry at losing a train. He walked out of his office, slammed to the door, and waited, jingling a bunch of keys. ‘“‘Tmust get to Cincinnati to-night,’’ Edgar went on. ‘‘Tsn’t there a carriage to be hired—or—or—anything?”’ ‘‘No, sir; we have no use for such things at Bridgley. Pardon me, I’m just locking up. See here,’’ he added, ‘your only plan is to walk to Covington, and it’s easy enough to get to Cincinnati from there. You had better follow the track and go through the tunnel. Are you afraid of tunnels?’’ SNe vat ‘“‘T’m afraid of nothing,’’ was the quick retort. GOmicboo (E(0) mM. cS