think of such things? It was merely the familiar tendency of an over-tired
mind to fasten itself on the most intolerable chance within the range of
its forebodings.... Putting her head out, she listened; but she could not
distinguish his breathing from that of the other pairs of lungs about her.
She longed to get up and look at him, but she knew the impulse was a mere
vent for her restlessness, and the fear of disturbing him restrained
her.... The regular movement of his curtain reassured her, she knew not
why; she remembered that he had wished her a cheerful good-night; and the
sheer inability to endure her fears a moment longer made her put them from
her with an effort of her whole sound tired body. She turned on her side
and slept.

She sat up stiffly, staring out at the dawn. The train was rushing through
a region of bare hillocks huddled against a lifeless sky. It looked like
the first day of creation. The air of the car was close, and she pushed up
her window to let in the keen wind. Then she looked at her watch: it was
seven o'clock, and soon the people about her would be stirring. She
slipped into her clothes, smoothed her dishevelled hair and crept to the
dressing-room. When she had washed her face and adjusted her dress she
felt more hopeful. It was always a struggle for her not to be cheerful in
the morning. Her cheeks burned deliciously under the coarse towel and the
wet hair about her temples broke into strong upward tendrils. Every inch
of her was full of life and elasticity. And in ten hours they would be at
home!

She stepped to her husband's berth: it was time for him to take his early
glass of milk. The window-shade was down, and in the dusk of the curtained
enclosure she could just see that he lay sideways, with his face away from
her. She leaned over him and drew up the shade. As she did so she touched
one of his hands. It felt cold....