one o'clock before
It was late when he appeared . Perhaps , like myself , he had not slept well . But he was apparently cheerful enough , and he made a better breakfast than I did . It was one o'clock before we got to Baltimore . After a half hour 's wait we took a local for M - , the station near which the cinematograph picture had been taken . We passed the scene of the wreck , McKnight with curiosity , I with a sickening sense of horror . Back in the fields was the little farm-house where Alison West and I had intended getting coffee , and winding away from the track , maple trees shading it on each side , was the lane where we had stopped to rest , and where I had -- it seemed presumption beyond belief now -- where I had tried to comfort her by patting her hand .