Excerpt from Eight Short Stories
IT had rained heavily all day, and a cold, damp wind was blowing down the platform. The train was already late and would be later, I was told. I made up my mind to at least an hour's delay, and began to walk up and down to keep myself warm. The platform was crowded with people: with ordinary travellers, with farmers and their wives returning from a market, with the strings of girls with arms linked and the gro...
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