When these agreeable facts were fully realized,
and Aunt Pen had fallen asleep behind her veil,
Debby took out a book, and indulged in her favorite
luxury, soon forgetting past, present, and future
in the inimitable history of Martin Chuzzlewit.
The sun blazed, the cars rattled, children
cried, ladies nodded, gentlemen longed for the
solace of prohibited cigars, and newspapers were
converted into sun-shades, nightcaps, and fans;
but Debby read on, unconscious of all about her,
even of the pair of eves that watched her from the
Opposite corner of the car. A Gentleman with a
frank, strong-featured face sat therin, and amused
himself by scanning with thoughtful gaze the
countenances of his fellow-travellers. Stout Aunt Pen,
dignified even in her sleep, was a "model of deportment"
to the rising generation; but the student
of human nature found a more attractive subject in
her companion, the girl with an apple-blossom face
and merry brown eyes, who sat smiling into her
book, never heeding that her bonnet was awry,
and the wind taking unwarrantable liberties with
her ribbons and her hair.
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