There was not another soul going to Quincy that morning, save the conductor and engineer.

The conductor looked at his passenger as boredly as the wife of a professional humorist looks at her husband, took his ticket and left him.
Jack lighted a cigarette and blew the smoke out of the open window while the little train bore him down through the green forest into the valley.

He was in a new world.

He was safe here--he was lost..