He stopped and lit a cigarette.
“But one can travel?” he suggested.
“Yes, surely there is plenty of room for that,” she said dryly; “but you don’t see many ruined castles or historic battlefields en route. And the dust, oh, la, la! And the steam coils under your seat—and the air—and the ventilation—and the nights—and the days.”
“You would better stay here,” he remarked.
“Oh, I think so,” she responded frankly; “it’s so jolly getting your gloves cleaned for two cents a pair; but if we don’t change the subject I shall cry.”
He looked at her quickly.
“That is the University there,” he told her, pointing to their left; “shall we go there?”
“What for?”
“To look upon it.”
“Why, I’ve seen it dozens of times.”