Dijon proposed an adjournment to a cafe, there to finish the afternoon on beer; the elder Stennis, revolted at the thought, moved for the country, a forest if possible, and a long walk.
At once the English speakers rallied to the name of any exercise: even to me, who have been often twitted with my sedentary habits, the thought of country air and stillness proved invincibly attractive.

It appeared, upon investigation, we had just time to hail a cab and catch one of the fast trains for Fontainebleau.

Beyond the clothes we stood in, all were destitute of what is called (with dainty vagueness) personal effects; and it was earnestly mooted, on the other side, whether we had not time to call upon the way and pack a satchel?
But the Stennis boys exclaimed upon our effeminacy.

They had come from London, it appeared, a week before with nothing but greatcoats and tooth-brushes.

No baggage--there was the secret of existence.