“There isn’t any place,” she said. She came back from wherever she had been.
“We might sit there just for a little while.”
We sat on the flat stone bench and I held Catherine Barkley’s hand. She would not let me put my arm around her.
“Are you very tired?” she asked.
“No.”
She looked down at the grass.
“This is a rotten game we play, isn’t it?”
“What game?”
“Don’t be dull.”
“I’m not, on purpose.”