It's astonishing, though, how we reconcile ourselves to it in the case of others." "I suppose it's something we'll have to get used to on the other side," suggested the stranger.
"Well," answered March, "you have some opportunities to get used to it on this side, if you happen to live in New York," and he went on to speak of the raggedness which often penetrated the frontier of comfort where he lived in Stuyvesant Square, and which seemed as glad of alms in food or money as this poverty of the steerage.
The other listened restively like a man whose ideals are disturbed.

"I don't believe I should like to live in New York, much," he said, and March fancied that he wished to be asked where he did live.

It appeared that he lived in Ohio, and he named his town; he did not brag of it, but he said it suited him.

He added that he had never expected to go to Europe, but that he had begun to run down lately, and his doctor thought he had better go out and try Carlsbad.
March said, to invite his further confidence, that this was exactly his own case.

The Ohio man met the overture from a common invalidism as if it detracted from his own distinction; and he turned to speak of the difficulty, he had in arranging his affairs for leaving home.