Princeton Junction, N. J., has an unpredictable railroad platform. Upon it you may see anybody from a debutante to an astronomer, for Princeton University is nearby. But always you will see, getting on the early morning commuters' train, getting off the early evening commuters' train, a neat, plump little man for whom a robins-egg Rolls-Royce stands at stately attention; for whom a footman leaps from the box; for whom the train will back up if necessary to set this important passenger down at the precise spot he wishes. Plump and neat, he trots between Rolls-Royce and train on trim little trotters.
He...