“It is strange what coincidences there are in regular, or even in irregular, lives! Just when the parents find life together unendurable, it becomes necessary to move to town for the children’s education.”
He stopped, and once or twice gave vent to his strange sounds, which were now quite like suppressed sobs. We were approaching a station.
“What is the time?” he asked.
I looked at my watch. It was two o’clock.
“You are not tired?” he asked.
“No, but you are?”
“I am suffocating. Excuse me, I will walk up and down and drink some water.”
He went unsteadily through the carriage. I remained alone thinking over what he had said, and I was so engrossed in thought that I did not notice when he reentered by the door at the other end of the carriage.