He thought the train was moving too fast to be on a bridge, and yet the woman across the aisle sat casually reading a book.  She seemed to him not quite present.  He tried to imagine what so absorbed her — perhaps a story of a woman warrior working her way through a success-jungle with a code to which she is true, or of a well-settled pleasure-monger, or — but the train was going way too fast to carry on.  He knew he had to fight his way through the traincars to alert the driver.  As he rose to his feet, her book’s title became unexpectedly plain to see: Imagining Toys for Kids.  Would she be so casual were the train indeed traveling dangerously fast?  He found that he then sat back down, even while continuing on in his mind to rush through the traincars to warn not the driver but himself to put on the brakes.