We had no time to spare.

If we stopped for a half hour we should be greeted by the anathema of a lecturing committee.

We felt a sort of presentiment that we should be too late, when to confirm it the whistle blew, and the brakes fell, and the cry all along the train was, "What is the matter ?" Answer: "A hot axle!" The wheels had been making too many revolutions in a minute.

The car was on fire.

It was a very difficult thing to put it out; water, sand and swabs were tried, and caused long detention and a smoke that threatened flame down to the end of the journey.
We thought then, and think now, this is what is the matter with people everywhere.