I couldn't eat anything. I only had my coffee about an hour ago.
She felt the tears rising, her gorge tightening. Here he stood before her, and yet she was not happy. She wanted. . . . What did she want?
I was talking from the librarian's room, she explained. It was difficult to say very much.
I got that after awhile, he said. At first I couldn't understand why you were so cold.
I must have sounded that way. I think, Byron, she went on, it would be just as well if you didn't telephone me at the library again.
All right, he replied. It was you who suggested It. Why didn't you call me up earlier? she demanded almost fiercely.
Why, I didn't think you'd be around earlier. It was so late when I left last night.
I was at the library at nine. I'm always there by nine.
I didn't get up at nine. Say, are we quarrelling already?
I'm sorry, Byron dear. I guess I'm tired. I'm feeling very nervous this morning.
You poor darling! He squeezed her arm affectionately.
Don't do that here, Byron, she begged.
Well, what can I do? When and where can I see you?
