"Oh, don't joke, Gil! You need a woman—a wife—someone to mother you."
"All those?"
Why couldn't he be serious for a moment? She asked him that.
"I don't dare to, Lucia." His voice was low.
She was a bit puzzled. "Why?"
"Because the minute you begin to take life seriously, it takes you that way, and then—"
"But don't you see what it would mean to you, dear Gil? To have someone always here; to kiss you when you go; to greet you when you come back; to laugh with you when you are glad; and comfort you when things go wrong. To give you the sympathy, the understanding that a man finds only in a woman's heart. Don't you see, Gil?"
"Yes, of course I see," he said, his head bowed a little.
"Then why don't you, Gil? She'd make you very happy—a woman like that. I want you to understand."
"Don't you suppose I do? Don't you suppose I've always understood, ever since—"