Nick, waxing his skis in the baggage car, pushed his boots into the toe irons and shut the clamp tight.

Nick sat down on the bundle of canvas and bedding the baggage man had pitched out of the door of the baggage car.

From the time he had gotten down off the train and the baggage man had thrown his pack out of the open car door things had been different.

The porter brought a truck and piled on the baggage, and my wife said goodbye and I said goodbye to the American lady, whose name had been found by the man from Cook’s on a typewritten page in a sheaf of typewritten pages which he replaced in his pocket.