“Should we sit here just a minute? I’m a little bit tired.”
We sat close together on the logs. Ahead the road went down through the forest.
“She won’t come between us, will she? The little brat.”
“No. We won’t let her.”
“How are we for money?”
“We have plenty. They honored the last sight draft.”
“Won’t your family try and get hold of you now they know you’re in Switzerland?”
“Probably. I’ll write them something.”
“Haven’t you written them?”
“No. Only the sight draft.”
“Thank God I’m not your family.”
“I’ll send them a cable.”
“Don’t you care anything about them?”
“I did, but we quarrelled so much it wore itself out.”
“I think I’d like them. I’d probably like them very much.”
“Let’s not talk about them or I’ll start to worry about them.” After a while I said, “Let’s go on if you’re rested.”
“I’m rested.”
We went on down the road. It was dark now and the snow squeaked under our boots. The night was dry and cold and very clear.
“I love your beard,” Catherine said. “It’s a great success. It looks so stiff and fierce and it’s very soft and a great pleasure.”
“Do you like it better than without?”
“I think so. You know, darling, I’m not going to cut my hair now until after young Catherine’s born. I look too
