“I think I can understand,” she says slowly. “Of course I’m trying to be impartial, and Emma’s one of my best friends, but I think that I do understand.”
“Yes, you would understand,” you answer. “There’s one thing, though, that I’d like to tell you. I mean this: I do feel badly about it. I may not act that way, but I do. It’s been awfully hard on her. Don’t think I haven’t worried.”
“You know, Ben, there’s something I want to say.” She sits up and folds her hands.
“Go ahead.”
“Well, I haven’t any right to say it, but I’m going to. I think that your trouble is, you worry too much.”
“Me? Worry? Barbara, you’re a nut!”
“I mean it. You think too much for her and everybody else. You pretend to be absolutely careless about everyone else, but you aren’t. You can’t get along like that; it isn’t nature. It doesn’t work out.”
“Maybe.” Frown at the fire. “Maybe. But what about her? She can’t face things alone, you know. I’m sorry if I’m talking too much, but this is serious. Now we’re started on a long subject. She simply can’t do it. She isn’t fitted for it. You must know that. You’re an old friend of hers.”
“Ben, how long have you been worrying like this about other people?”
“You’re asking me how old I am!” you cry in dismay. “It isn’t polite of you. I’m much too old for you to be wasting your time on my domestic troubles. You’ll have to be satisfied with that. I won’t tell you.”