in October. We’ll have a lovely time, darling, and I’ll write you every day while you’re at the front.”
“Where will you be?”
“I don’t know yet. But somewhere splendid. I’ll look after all that.”
We were quiet awhile and did not talk. Catherine was sitting on the bed and I was looking at her but we did not touch each other. We were apart as when some one comes into a room and people are self-conscious. She put out her hand and took mine.
“You aren’t angry are you, darling?”
“No.”
“And you don’t feel trapped?”
“Maybe a little. But not by you.”
“I didn’t mean by me. You mustn’t be stupid. I meant trapped at all.”
“You always feel trapped biologically.”
She went away a long way without stirring or removing her hand.
“’Always’isn’t a pretty word.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. But you see I’ve never had a baby and I’ve never even loved any one. And I’ve tried to be the way you wanted and then you talk about’always.”
“I could cut off my tongue,” I offered.
“Oh, darling!” she came back from wherever she had been. “You mustn’t mind me.” We were both together again and the self-consciousness was gone. “We really are the same one and we mustn’t misunderstand on purpose.”
“We won’t.”
“But people do. They love each other and they
