Soru

Gideon had not yet grumbled to a halt when he decided that the station-master’s house was smaller than he had remembered, or perhaps it was only that the gray sky had pressed it down into the wet gravel. He watched the steam from the engine blossom against the windowpane, a brief white flower that withered as quickly as it grew, leaving behind a cold pane of water that blurred the platform. There was a girl in a red cloak standing near the luggage crates, holding an umbrella that seemed too heavy for her wrists; she did not look up, even when the whistle shrieked its final, hoarse protest. Gideon felt a sudden, unreasonable irritation at her stillness. Why did she wait there, as if the damp world were a painted backdrop and she the only spectator? In London, people moved with purpose, colliding and separating like iron filings in a magnetic field. Here, time seemed to puddle like the rain around the station-master's boots. He picked up his leather bag, its brass clasp cold against his palm, and wondered if his sister's letters had been written in the same sluggish spirit that seemed to govern this entire valley. He had come to settle the estate, yes, but looking out at the stagnant air, he felt he was only adding another layer of silt to a riverbed that had ceased to flow years ago.

Which of the following best describes the primary function of the third-person limited narrative point of view in the passage?