I’m not mad and I’m not gone off. It’s only a little sometimes.”
I pressed her hand, “Dear Catherine.”
“It sounds very funny now—Catherine. You don’t pronounce it very much alike. But you’re very nice. You're a very good boy.”
“That’s what the priest said.”
“Yes, you're very good. And you will come and see me?”
“Of course.”
“And you don’t have to say you love me. That’s all over for a while.” She stood up and put out her hand. “Good-night.”
I wanted to kiss her.
“No,” she said. “I’m awfully tired.”
“Kiss me, though,” I said.
“I’m awfully tired, darling.”
“Kiss me.”
“Do you want to very much?”
“Yes!”
We kissed and she broke away suddenly. “No. Good-night, please, darling.” We walked to the door and I saw her go in and down the hall. I liked to watch her move. She went on down the hall. I went on home. It was a hot night and there was a good deal going on up in the mountains. I watched the flashes on San Gabriele.
I stopped in front of the Villa Rossa. The shutters were up but it was still going on inside. Somebody was singing. I went on home. Rinaldi came in while I was undressing.
“Ah, ha!” he said. “It does not go so well. Baby is puzzled.”
“Where have you been?”
