“No, I haven’t been lucky,” said Carl, secretly exploding with a laughter that was partly directed at himself.
He had been afraid that these girls would prove to be of the shallowly sophisticated, carefully sulky type and he felt relieved at their coarsely direct naivetes. An axe, with baby-blue ribbon tied around it, was more entertaining than a pocket-knife steeped in cheap perfume.
“No, I haven’t been lucky,” he went on, “but, you know, we’re always waiting for the right one.”
“Why, that’s just what Lucy always says,” said Katie, rolling her eyes as she looked at the other girl in a ponderously insinuating manner. “She’s always been rowmantic, like you, Mister Felman. Why if I was to tell you of all the fellas she’s turned down you wouldn’t believe me.”
“No, perhaps I wouldn’t,” answered Carl, keeping his face sober with a massive effort.
“Now, Katie, you keep quiet,” said Lucy, and Carl was surprised at the actual anger that hardened her voice. “I’m perfectly able to talk about my own business without your helpin’ an’ it’s not nice to be sayin’ such things to a gen’lman who’s just met me. I’m sure he’s not interested in my past an’ even if he is I’m the one to tell him an’ not you. You make me tired!”
“Well, of all things,” cried Katie. “I was only tryin’ to be nice an’ here you go and get real angry about it. I’ve never had a girl frien’ who was as touchy as you are. I didn’t really tell Mister Felman anything about you ’cept that you was rowmantic, an’ that’s nothin’ to be ashamed about.”
“See here, stop all this quarrelin’,” said Petersen, to whom the speech of women was always an ignorance that assailed the patience of masculine wisdom. “You women can talk for ten hours about nothin’! I didn’t bring my friend down to have him lissen to your squabblin’. Cut it out, I tell ya.”
This storm in an earthen jar was amusing to Carl. He marvelled at the ability of these people to whip words into redundantly nondescript droves in which thought gasped weakly as it strove to follow the uproar of simple emotions. Continually, he felt the reactions of a visitor from another planet, witnessing an incredible vaudeville-show. All human beings to him were hollow and secretly despairing falsehoods separated only by the cleverness or crudeness of their verbal disguises, and he heard them with an emotion that was evenly divided between amazement and a chuckle.
“I’m sure that Miss Anderson meant no harm,” said Carl, with a whim to become the glib peacemaker. “She was just feeling gay and frisky, and I took her words in the right spirit. Miss Melkin was a little angry because she thought that I didn’t understand Miss Anderson’s intentions, but she needn’t be afraid. I never misinterpret. It was just a little misunderstanding on both sides so let’s forget about it.”