“But of course you’re a man.”
“Sure, that’s right. A man feels different. I admit I don’t understand women, and I bet I’m as bright as the next one. There’s not a man alive can understand a woman.”
“Well, maybe you’re right.”
“Isn’t it time to eat? Let’s go on in and see. Will you have dinner with me?”
“Why—I don’t know——”
“What’s the harm?”
No nice girl will admit the possibility of harm. She ignores your remark, therefore, by rising and starting for the dining car. It is seven cars away, and some of the long passages are difficult to manage without staggering from side to side. Hold her elbow in a firm grasp, squeezing it as she stumbles against you, and laugh a good deal. You are much better friends when you reach the diner.
She looks out of the window at the sweeping darkness and you watch her and she knows it. The speed of the train and the feeling of not belonging anywhere are very exciting. What will Colorado be like? What is it all about anyway? No one in the train is a real person; they are all simply part of an adventure, like the armies and mobs in the background of a moving picture. Even the man across the table—isn’t he simply part of it too? The most exciting part? A personification of the whole thing, the whole waiting world.... I’d have said you were from New York.... You can take care of yourself.... I certainly can.... She smiles at you suddenly, defiantly, gayly. “What were you thinking about?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The future, I guess.”
“I thought so. Let’s drink to it.” Hold up your water glass. “To your future, and may it include me.”