First Girl. I never liked her myself—ever since the way she behaved at his Mother's that Sunday.
Second Girl. How did she behave?
[A faint curiosity is discernible amongst the other passengers to learn how she—whoever she is—behaved that Sunday.
First Girl. Why, it was you told me! You remember. That night Joe let out about her and the automatic scent fountain.
Second Girl. Oh, yes, I remember now. (General disappointment.) I couldn't help laughing myself. Joe didn't ought to have told—but she needn't have got into such a state over it, need she?
First Girl. That was Eliza all over. If George had been sensible, he'd have broken it off then and there—but no, he wouldn't hear a word against her, not at that time—it was the button-hook opened his eyes!
[The other passengers strive to dissemble a frantic desire to know how and why this delicate operation was performed.
Second Girl (mysteriously). And enough too! But what put George off most was her keeping that bag so quiet.
[The general imagination is once more stirred to its depths by this mysterious allusion.
First Girl. Yes, he did feel that, I know, he used to come and go on about it to me by the hour together. "I shouldn't have minded so much," he told me over and over again, with the tears standing in his eyes,—"if it hadn't been that the bottles was all silver-mounted!"