She did not know therefore, until
the train started, that their seats were in a third-class carriage.
Every one was hurrying on board, so Mae was obliged to jump in without
a word, and accept her fate as best she could. It was no very pleasant
fate. The van was dirty, crowded, garlic-scented. Mae was plucky,
however, and knew she was to find dirt and dreadful odors everywhere.
Two months of Rome had taught her that. But it grew very dreadful in the
close travelling-carriage. There was an old woman at her side, with a
deformed hand, and two soldiers opposite, who stared rudely at her,
and made loud, unpleasant remarks; and having no books, and nothing to
entertain herself with, she was forced to curl up in a corner, and try
to sleep, which she could not do.
Poor child! it was a hard day. Dull and dreary outside, and within, the
sickening odors and people. Back in Rome, what were they doing? Had they
found out that she had gone? And Eric, how was he feeling? No, no, she
must not think of all this.
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