Perhaps they considered that he was rightly of Simsbury and would continue to be a part of it all the days of his life; or perhaps they wouldn't notice him at all.

They had been passing Simsburys all day, and all Simsburys and all their peoples must look very much alike to them.

Very well--a day would come.

There would be at Simsbury a momentous stop of No.

4 and another passenger would be in that dining car, disjoined forever from Simsbury, and he with them would stare out the polished windows at the gaping throng, and he would continue to stare with incurious eyes at still other Simsburys along the right of way, while the proud train bore him off to triumphs never dreamed of by natural-born villagers.
He decided now not to tantalize himself with a glance at this splendid means of escape from all that was sordid.