'I have nothing,' she thought, 'but myself. No parents that count; no longer a fiancé; no home. I'm not even young any more, actually twenty-four. Ladies in novels are never out of their teens. Well, at least I've myself.'
She straightened her long, slim body, straightened her bonnet, and looked about the railroad coach and the miserable cold companions of her journey.
'Myself...and a mink pelisse,' she added, and was sorry for the women in frayed shawls and shabby bonnets gathered close about the pot-bellied stove standing midway in the coach. A man, almost a gentleman but not quite, continually stooped to feed more wood to the fire.
'Disgraceful,' said the man. 'That brakeman ought to come around oftener, and we'll run short of wood before we reach Worcester.'
'Gimme,' said an old fellow with a muffler tied about his ears—'gimme the good old days and hosses. Nobody then tried to carry a stove around on wheels, but at least we had straw in the wagon bed right up to your calves, if the ladies will excuse my
