Some noisy men were quiet as she passed them on the platform, and one whispered something about her to another-- something vile, no doubt.

She stepped up on the high step, and sat down in a carriage by herself on a dirty seat that had been white.

Her bag lay beside her, shaken up and down by the springiness of the seat.

With a foolish smile Pyotr raised his hat, with its colored band, at the window, in token of farewell; an impudent conductor slammed the door and the latch.