The Holy Terror [antikvár]

ne"Excuse me, is this the right train for Millasse?"The fat man in the third-class compartment had already noticed the speaker, a small, shabby-looking young woman, as she got out of the express and strug-gled awkwardly with two heavy suitcases."It had better be the train for Millasse because that's where I'm going myself. In fact I live in Millasse. You'll be all right here. You've got somé pretty heavy bags, though I doubt if they'll go on the rack. Still, there's plenty of room ón the seat . . . ."He hoisted the newcomer's luggage into the carriage and then sat back, mopping his scarlet face, while he studied her more elosely. She was dressed in a neat but well-worn suit and her gloves showed signs of frequent washing. The cheap, chain-store hat was almost jaunty by comparison and her shoes looked new.All the same, she was definitely what the fat man called a lady. Why on earth could she be going to Millasse? He leaned his huge bulk forward and stared boldly into the stranger's pale face, making no attempt to hide his curiosity."So you're going to Millasse?""Yes.""Got relations there, I expect?" "No.""Can't be going there for fun. Millasse is no joke -you have to be born there. You're on business, then?"