AS THE TRAIN glided into the wayside station, Jim Brandon lifted his well-worn suitcase and a shabby leg-of-mutton guncase down from the rack. Through the windows he caught successive glimpses of fresh-painted white palings, trim flwer-beds dripping from a recent shower, a girl’s figure on a broad sweep of gravelled platform, a tiny station-house, a handful of waiting travellers by the overhead bridge, and a ticket-collector at the gate giving egress into the station yard.
