rors. She did not look happy. She let her cape fall on the bed.
"What's the matter, darling?"
"I never felt like a whore before," she said. I went over to the window and pulled the curtain aside and looked out. I had not thought it would be like this.
"You're not a whore."
"I know it, darling. But it isn't nice to feel like one." Her voice was dry and flat.
"This was the best hotel we could get in," I said. I looked out the window. Across the square were the lights of the station. There were carriages going by on the street and I saw the trees in the park. The lights from the hotel shone on the wet pavement. Oh, hell, I thought, do we have to argue now?
"Come over here please," Catherine said. The flatness was all gone out of her voice. "Come over, please. I'm a good girl again," I looked over at the bed. She was smiling.
I went over and sat on the bed beside her and kissed her.
"You're my good girl."
"I'm certainly yours," she said.
After we had eaten we felt fine, and then after, we felt very happy and in a little time the room felt like our own home. My room at the hospital had been our own home and this room was our home too in the same way.
Catherine wore my tunic over her shoulders while we ate. We were very hungry and the meal was good and we drank a bottle of Capri and a bottle of St. Estephe. I drank most of it but Catherine drank some and it made her feel splendid. For dinner we had a
