. The book of months . AUGUST watching over it all; then close against the win-dow slanting lines of people, like rain, on thegray tapering platform, the names of thestations hidden, like a plum in a bun from its ownrefreshment-room, in plasters of advertisement;the signal-box with its rows of gleaming sema-phores; the mile of sordid house-roofs again,and out into the green fields. Then at a stilegoing onto the line there wait a couple of chil-dren, whom in all human probability you willnever see again, waving their hats at the gayexpress. For a glimpse only you saw them, butthey have their li
. The book of months . AUGUST watching over it all; then close against the win-dow slanting lines of people, like rain, on thegray tapering platform, the names of thestations hidden, like a plum in a bun from its ownrefreshment-room, in plasters of advertisement;the signal-box with its rows of gleaming sema-phores; the mile of sordid house-roofs again,and out into the green fields. Then at a stilegoing onto the line there wait a couple of chil-dren, whom in all human probability you willnever see again, waving their hats at the gayexpress. For a glimpse only you saw them, butthey have their lives in front of them, fraughtwith momentousness to themselves at least, andperhaps to others. It is even possible that inyears to come the line of your life may crosstheirs, that tragedy or comedy is already weav-ing the ropes that will bring you together inlove or death or laughter. For of all phrases chance meeting is the most illogical. Ifchance exists at all, nothing exists except
Size: 877px × 2850px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidcu3192401358, bookyear1903
