More Waiting

I was waiting yet again. Two women, working-class women, behind me were talking animatedly in Tamil. When it's Tamil I have to pay attention to understand it, and when something doesn't concern me I often don't pay attention, preferring to let waves of sound wash over me and go elsewhere. But suddenly I heard an English phrase, "Love is short, life is long," and began to listen. The woman hesitated, thought it wasn't quite right, and said, "No, love is long, life is short." I liked it better the first time. They were talking about a young girl who was being unreasonable. A match had been proposed to her, with a boy who had a good job, along with which decent quarters had been provided. But she was holding out for love? And, approximately, "How she talks, using all English words. What does she think of herself?"