Again he passed the two girls. His expression was certainly not amiable.
“How long have you known him?” Molly asked.
“I don’t know him. I tell you I only see him on the platform at Mill Vale. He and I seem to be the only people—the only decent people—who’ve found out the new station. He goes up by the 9.1 every day, and so do I. And the train’s always late, so we have the platform and the booking office to ourselves. And there we sit, or stand, or walk, morning after morning like two stuck pigs in a trough of silence.”
“Don’t jumble your metaphors, though you very nearly carried it off with the trough, I own. Stuck pigs don’t walk—in troughs, or anywhere else.”
“Well, you know what I mean——”
“But what do you want the wretched man to do? He can’t speak to you: it wouldn’t be proper——”
“Proper—why not? We’re human beings, not wild beasts. At least, I’m a human being.”
“And he’s a beast—I see.”
“I wish I were a man,” said Nina. “There he is again. His nose goes up another half inch every time he passes me. What’s he got to be so superior about? If I were a man I’d certainly pass the time of day with a fellow-creature if I were condemned to spend from ten to forty minutes with it six days out of the seven.”
“I expect he’s afraid you’d want to marry him. My brother Cecil says men are always horribly frightened about that.”