A STOLEN EXCURSION Barbara stopped at the top of James Street and looked down hill to the river.

The afternoon was dark and the pavement wet.

Thin fog drifted about the tall offices, lights shone in the windows, and she heard steamers' whistles.

Down the street, a white plume of steam, streaking the dark-colored fog, marked the tunnel station, and Barbara glanced at a neighboring clock.
She could get a train in a few minutes, but she would be forced to wait at a station on the Cheshire side, and there was not another train for some time.

She had bought the things she needed and did not know what to do.