blog:The girl on the train
She seemed to find nothing strange in the question. Had she noticed already that I could not see? But her next question removed my doubts.
“Why don’t you look out of the window?” she asked quite naturally.
I moved easily along the berth and felt for the window ledge. The window was open and I faced it, making a pretense of studying the landscape. In my mind’s eye, I could see the telegraph posts flashing by. “Have you noticed,” I ventured, “that the trees seem to be moving while we seem to be standing still?”
“That always happens,” she said.
I turned from the window and faced the girl, and for a while we sat in silence. “You have an interesting face,” I commented. I was becoming quite daring, but it was a safe remark, few girls can resist flattery.
She laughed pleasantly, a clear, ringing laugh. “It’s nice to be told that,” she said. “I’m so tired of people telling me that I have a pretty face.”
Oh, so you do have a pretty face, thought I, and aloud I said, “Well, an interesting face can also be pretty.”
“You are very gallant,” she said. “But why are you so serious?”
“We’ll soon be at your station,” I said rather abruptly. “Thank goodness it’s a short journey. I can’t bear to sit in a train for more than two or three hours.”
Yet I was prepared to sit there for almost any length of time, just to listen to her talking. Her voice had the sparkle of a mountain stream. As soon as she left the train, she would forget our brief encounter, but it would stay with me for the rest of the journey, and for some time after.
