The first thing that each woman did, the moment she could get her hands free, was to dash for the nearest window and haul it down.
"Astonishes me," said the first woman, "that somebody is not dead in this carriage." Their idea, I think, was that through asphyxiation we had become comatose, and, but for their entrance, would have died unconscious.
"It is a current of air that is wanted," said another of the ladies.
So they opened the door at the front of the carriage and four of them stood outside on the platform, chatting pleasantly and admiring the scenery, while two of them opened the door at the other end, and took photographs of the Lake of Geneva.

The carriage rose and cursed them in six languages.

Bells were rung: conductors came flying in.

It was all of no use.

Those American ladies were cheerful but firm.