hand. “Poor old Phil.” she said. He looked at her hands, but he did not touch her hand with his.
“No, thanks,” he said.
“It doesn’t do any good to say I’m sorry?”
“No.”
“Nor to tell you how it is?”
“I’d rather not hear.”
“I love you very much.”
“Yes, this proves it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “if you don’t understand.”
“I understand. That’s the trouble. I understand.”
“You do,” she said. “That makes it worse, of course.”
“Sure,” he said, looking at her. “I’ll understand all the time. All day and all night. Especially all night. I’ll understand. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“If it was a man—”
“Don’t say that. It wouldn’t be a man. You know that. Don’t you trust me?”
“That’s funny,” he said. “Trust you. That’s really funny.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s all I seem to say. But when we do understand each other there’s no use to pretend we don’t.”
“No,” he said. “I suppose not.”
“I’ll come back if you want me.”
“No. I don’t want you.” Then they did not say anything for a while.
“You don’t believe I love you, do you?” the girl asked.
“Let’s not talk rot,” the man said.
“Don’t you really believe I love you?”
“Why don’t you prove it?”
“You didn’t use to be that way. You never asked me to prove anything. That isn’t polite.”
“You’re a funny girl.”
“You’re not. You’re a fine man and it breaks my heart to go off and leave you—”
“You have to, of course.”
