Not till the second morning after, did he succeed in making his escape.
Early though the hour was, a crowd of Saturday holiday-makers, armed with sticks, ropes and knapsacks, was hastening to catch the first train to the mountains. He mingled with them; pushed and shoved his way; joined in the rude scramble for a seat.
But no sooner was the train in motion than he wandered restlessly into the corridor, and planted himself at the window to watch the country fly by. Free . . . free! And now for — But no! . . . not again, not as long as he lived, would that name cross his lips. It was fouled for him for ever . . . by arts indescribable. Salli — little Salli! In fancy he held her to him, felt her small head sleek to his chin, the skin of her neck blossom-soft and cool. Oh! once with Salli ag
