"
Silence. But Mr. Wrenn was fighting for things to say, means of
approach, for the chance to become acquainted with a new person,
for all the friendly human ways he had desired in nights of
loneliness.
"Wonder when they'll get the Grand Central done?" asked the fat man.
"I s'pose it'll take quite a few years," said Mr. Wrenn,
conversationally.
"Yuh. I s'pose it will."
Silence.
Mr. Wrenn sat trying to think of something else to say. Lonely
people in city restaurants simply do not get acquainted. Yet he
did manage to observe, "Great building that'll be," in the
friendliest manner.
Silence.
Then the fat man went on:
"Wonder what Wolgast will do in his mill? Don't believe he can
stand up."
Wolgast was, Mr. Wrenn seemed to remember, a pugilist. He
agreed vaguely:
"Pretty hard, all right."
"Go out to the areoplane meet?" asked the fat man.
"No. But I'd like to see it. Gee! there must be kind of--kind
of adventure in them things, heh?"
"Yuh--sure is. First machine I saw, though--I was just getting
off the train at Belmont Park, and there was an areoplane up in
the air, and it looked like one of them big mechanical beetles
these fellows sell on the street buzzing around up there.
Pages:
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286