The other was a girl, occupying the seat directly in front of me.
She might have been nine years old, but she had a singularly faded and
mature countenance. As the train started, she turned to me with some
excitement:--
"There!" said she, pointing towards the window; "your beau's walking
off! He's walking fast! He ain't looking back!"
"Thank you," said I, in a low, expressionless tone, not intended as an
inducement to further conversation.
This girl had a parcel of confectionery, the contents of which she
occasionally took out, and ranged in a row on the window ledge, selecting
therefrom the smallest and least inviting fragment, and having eaten it
with the hasty air of one who treats herself under protest to the
luscious prerogatives of childhood, put the rest back in the paper-bag,
carefully replacing the string every time. She selected and handed to me
the very largest specimen in her collection, which I had the
gracelessness to refuse, though without show of disgust. Afterwards she
asked if she might come and sit in the seat with me. I thought she was
very disagreeable. Besides, I was so miserable I wanted to commune apart
with my own loneliness.
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