I wish so much that I could tell about it in a better way.

But I have only my own way, which I am afraid seems very like a school-girl's.
Jean Braidfute made the journey with me, as she always did, and it was like every other journey.

Only one incident made it different, and when it occurred there seemed nothing unusual in it.

It was only a bit of sad, everyday life which touched me.

There is nothing new in seeing a poor woman in deep mourning.
Jean and I had been alone in our railway carriage for a great part of the journey; but an hour or two before we reached London a man got in and took a seat in a corner.