Carrie looked at her gratefully. “I guess I will,” she said.
She stood up from her stool and worked that way for a while, but it was a more difficult position. Her neck and shoulders ached in bending over.
The spirit of the place impressed itself on her in a rough way. She did not venture to look around, but above the clack of the machine she could hear an occasional remark. She could also note a thing or two out of the side of her eye.
“Did you see Harry last night?” said the girl at her left, addressing her neighbour.
“No.”
“You ought to have seen the tie he had on. Gee, but he was a mark.”
“S-s-t,” said the other girl, bending over her work. The first, silenced, instantly assumed a solemn face. The foreman passed slowly along, eyeing each worker distinctly. The moment he was gone, the conversation was resumed again.
“Say,” began the girl at her left, “what jeh think he said?”
“I don’t know.”
“He said he saw us with Eddie Harris at Martin’s last night.”