Then to escape her thoughts, she hurried further down till she reached the railway bridge.

The high parapets of riveted sheet-iron hid the line from view; she could only distinguish a corner of the station standing out against the luminous horizon of Paris, with a vast roof black with coal-dust.

Through the clear space she could hear the engines whistling and the cars being shunted, in token of colossal hidden activity.

Then a train passed by, leaving Paris, with puffing breath and a growing rumble.

And all she perceived of this train was a white plume, a sudden gust of steam which rose above the parapet and then evaporated.