“I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. ‘Now let’s have it. But Jack was too nimble for him. She jumped up at once, caught up a leather clutch containing notebooks, a fat textbook, and a chocolate-and-yellow-covered pamphlet, and leaped neatly from the carriage, only to discover that the train was slowing down and that she had to traverse the full length of the platform past it again as the result of her precipitation. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there. Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. He had more time for her. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely.
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