They began to talk. Christophe tried very seriously to prove to her that it was not right not to take an interest in others, and that people could do so much for each other by helping and comforting each other….
"Consolation," she said, "is not much in my line…."
And as Christophe insisted:
"Yes," she said, with her impertinent smile; "the part of comforter is all very well for the man who plays it."
It was a moment or two before he grasped her meaning. When he understood, when he fancied that she suspected him of seeking his own interest, while he was only thinking of her, he got up indignantly and opened the door, and made as though to climb out, although the train was moving. She prevented him, though not without difficulty. He sat down again angrily, and shut the door just as the train shot into a tunnel.
"You see," she said, "you might have been killed."
"I don't care," he said.
He refused to speak to her again.
"People are so stupid," he said. "They make each other suffer, they suffer, and when a man goes to help another fellow-creature, he is suspected. It is disgusting. People like that are not human."
She laughed and tried to soothe him. She laid her gloved hand on his: she spoke to him gently, and called him by his name.