Word: vagabonde
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Vagabond finished his meal and strolled back to the Club Car. He loved to sit out on the observation platform and watch the world recede into the distance at the rate of sixty miles an hour. It gave him a feeling of going places, a thrill that comes from the sense of speed and the feeling that one is utterly helpless to do anything about it save be carried along. He let himself down into the little camp chair on the platform, pulled his coat tightly around his knees to keep off the chill gusts of wind, and relaxed...
Clackety-clack, clackety-clack! Clackety-clack, clackety-clack! The train was slowing down now, getting into Providence. Around the curves between the two hills of the city they swerved, and into the station. Queer place, Providence, the Vagabond thought. Old Roger Williams stood on top of the State House dome, gleaming in the sunlight. He was a man too good for Boston, and he'd had to leave. But under his effigy on the State House ruled men like Quinn and O'Hara. And they'd had a lot of trouble with a man named Dorr a hundred years...
Click-click! Click-click! They were putting on speed now. Shortly the train slowed to cross the Thames, and slide into New London Station. The Vagabond thought about the boat races. Then he let his eyes drift out over the harbor, which was darkning now as the sun moved west. Soon the train was moving again, steaming for New Haven...
...Haven the Vagabond got up from his camp stool on the platform and went into the warm club car. He did not care for New Haven, somehow. He could read a magazine the rest of the way down...
Holy Smoke! The Vagabond looked at his watch. Five minutes to twelve. He'd have to hurry up if he wanted to get through in time to catch that train to the City...