But that women should have to suffer such things through their love was intolerable.
The cold intensified.

Philosophical passengers either wrapped themselves in their rugs or got out and walked up and down, stamping their feet, their hands in their coat-pockets.

The General sat, quiet as a Fate, staring at his watch.

His thoughts were tending towards a certain conclusion.
At first he had been merely impatient for the train to get on.

As time passed he became more impatient as it was borne in on him that he might possibly be too late for the _Sutlej_.