Harry laughed outright.
“What a cat and dog life you will lead.”
“Lovers always fight,” I assured him. “Because they don’t understand each other. And by the time they do understand each other they aren’t in love any more.”
“Does the reverse hold true? Are people who fight each other always lovers?”
“I—I don’t know,” I said, momentarily confused.
He turned away to the fireplace.
“Like some more soup?” he asked in a casual tone.
“Yes, please. I’m so hungry that I could eat a hippopotamus.”
“That’s good.”
He busied himself with the fire; I watched.