steamer, though."

"Seems like looking back on a quite separate life, doesn't it?"

"Yes," said Lewis, nodding, "it does."

"Of course it does, and in that fact you've got the germ of an
individual philosophy. Every man who goes through the stress of life has
need of an individual philosophy."

"What's yours, sir?"

"I was going to tell you. Life, to me, is like this train, a lot of
sections and a lot of couplings. When you're through with a car,
side-track it and--yank out the coupling. Like all philosophies, this
one has its flaw. Once in a while your soul looks out of the window and
sees some long-forgotten, side-tracked car beckoning to be coupled on
again. If you try to go back and pick it up, you're done. Never look
back, boy; never look back. Live ahead even if you're only living a
compensation."

"What's a compensation?" asked Lewis.

"A compensation," said Leighton thoughtfully, "is a thing that doesn't
quite compensate."

Above the rattle of the train sounded the deep bellow of a steamer's
throttle. Lewis turned to the window. Night had fallen.

"Oh, look, sir!" he cried. "We're almost there!"