He came aboard at Newton Abbot and sat down opposite without acknowledging me. Mid-fifties. Kempt, but only just. Navy blue, well-worn suit. Plain tie. Once he’d settled himself he looked out of the window and studied the passing sky. I tried to catch his eye.
We had a three-hour journey ahead of us and it seemed absurd to share a table for that length of time without as much as an exchange of friendly glances or resigned smiles.
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