I daresay they never saw, and perhaps never will see, one another.
I met them on separate railway journeys, and the dates are divided by
five years almost. One boy was travelling third-class, the other first.
The age of each when I made his very slight acquaintance (with the one I
did not even exchange a word) was about fourteen. Almost certainly
their lives and their stories have no connection outside of my thoughts.
But I think of them often, and together. They have grown up; the
younger will be a man by this time; if I met them now, their altered
faces would probably be quite strange to me. Yet the two boys remain my
friends, and that is why I take leave to include them among these
stories of my friends.