climbing up, which she knew was characteristic of his breed.
“But don’t you think there is something special about him?” she asked.
“Frankly, no! Nothing I had noticed.”
He looked at her curiously, uneasily, half-suspiciously. And she felt he wasn’t telling her the real truth; he wasn’t telling himself the real truth, that was it. He disliked any suggestion of a really exceptional human being. People must be more or less at his level, or below it.
Connie felt again the tightness, niggardliness of the men of her generation. They were so tight, so scared of life!