She observed the vast emptiness, with purpling mountains and limitless stretches of multicolored ground arched by a dome of sky, higher and wider and more dazzling than her stern New Hampshire soul ever conceived. And she turned panic-stricken back to the train already moving away from the station. Her first sensation was relief at feeling solid ground under her feet again, for this was Amelia Ellen’s first trip into the world, and the cars bewildered her. Her second impulse was to get back into that train as fast as her feet could carry her and get this awful journey over so she might earn the right to return to her quiet home and her faithful beloved. But the train was well under way. She looked after it half in envy. It could go on with its work and not have to stop in this wild wasteland. She gazed about again with the frightened look a deserted child gives before it puckers its lips and screams. Hazel was talking calmly with the rough-looking man on the platform, who wore a wide felt hat and a pistol in his belt.
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