“No. I want you to stay.”
“That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Come over here,” she said. “I want to feel the bump on your head. It’s a big bump.” She ran her finger over it. “Darling, would you like to grow a beard?”
“Would you like me to?”
“It might be fun. I’d like to see you with a beard.”
“All right. I’ll grow one. I’ll start now this minute. It’s a good idea. It will give me something to do.”
“Are you worried because you haven’t anything to do?”
“No. I like it. I have a fine life. Don’t you?”
“I have a lovely life. But I was afraid because I’m big now that maybe I was a bore to you.”
“Oh, Cat. You don’t know how crazy I am about you.”
“This way?”
“Just the way you are. I have a fine time. Don’t we have a good life?”
“I do, but I thought maybe you were restless.”
“No. Sometimes I wonder about the front and about people I know but I don’t worry. I don’t think about anything much.”
“Who do you wonder about?”
“About Rinaldi and the priest and lots of people I know. But I don’t think about them much. I don’t want to think about the war. I’m through with it.”