“It will be a used engine. But it will be better than that coffee pot you have in there now.”
They went up the worn stone steps and walked across the gravel and sat on a bench under the trees.
The trees were black and moved in the wind, and there were no leaves on them. The leaves had fallen early, that year, and been swept up long ago.
A man came over to offer postcards for sale and the Colonel told him, “Run along, son. We don’t need you now.”
The girl was crying, finally, although she had made the decision never to cry.
“Look, Daughter,” the Colonel said. “There isn’t anything to say. They didn’t install shock-absorbers in this vehicle we ride in now.”
“I’ve stopped,” she said. “I’m not an hysterical.”
“I wouldn’t say you were. I’d say you were the loveliest and most beautiful girl that ever lived. Any time. Any place. Anywhere.”
“If it were true, what difference would it make?”
“You have me there,” the Colonel said. “But it is true.”
“So now what?”
“So now we stand up and kiss each other and say good-bye.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know,” the Colonel said. “I guess that is one of the things everybody has to figure out for themselves.”
“I’ll try to figure it.”
“Just take it as easy as you can, Daughter.”
