Second-class passengers wear a more practical aspect, and youth among them is rarer and more grave.

People who must travel second and third class make voyages for utilitarian reasons.

Their object is usually to better themselves in one way or another.

When they are going from Liverpool to New York, it is usually to enter upon new efforts and new labours.

When they are returning from New York to Liverpool, it is often because the new life has proved less to be depended upon than the old, and they are bearing back with them bitterness of soul and discouragement of spirit.
On the brilliant spring morning when the huge liner Meridiana was to sail for England a young man, who was a second-class passenger, leaned upon the ship's rail and watched the turmoil on the wharf with a detached and not at all buoyant air.
His air was detached because he had other things in his mind than those merely passing before him, and he was not buoyant because they were not cheerful or encouraging subjects for reflection.