I lingered a moment to kiss the white star on Gypsy's forehead, and was nearly unmanned when the little animal returned the caress by lapping my cheek.

Twice I went back and patted her.
On reaching the station I purchased my ticket with a bravado air that ought to have aroused the suspicion of the ticket-master, and hurried to the car, where I sat fidgeting until the train shot out into the broad daylight.
Then I drew a long breath and looked about me.

The first object that saluted my sight was Sailor Ben, four or five seats behind me, reading the Rivermouth Barnacle! Reading was not an easy art to Sailor Ben; he grappled with the sense of a paragraph as if it were a polar-bear, and generally got the worst of it.

On the present occasion he was having a hard struggle, judging by the way he worked his mouth and rolled his eyes.

He had evidently not seen me.