She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. I hope I may never come near her. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. It did seem germane to the matter that so many of the people “in the van” were plain people, or faded people, or tired-looking people.
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