“By the way,” asked the dark pretty woman, “what are you doing now? You haven’t told me.”
Holton flushed and Mr Heywood was sorry for him. “I’m working in a brokerage office.”
She laughed. “But how dreadful that must be.”
Holton looked miserable and Mr Heywood, who rather agreed with her, laughed. “It’s not too terrible, Mrs Bankton. Some of us manage to survive it. I think a sense of humor is the most important thing.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had no idea you were also in the same situation.”
How delightful she was, thought Mr Heywood. “We must all,” said Mr Heywood in a voice that was like the sigh of a dying man, “do our appointed tasks. Duty is of such great importance: it is the only tangible thing in the chaos of living.”
“But I don’t think that’s so at all,” said Carla as gently as he but with less resignation. “One should always try to do what one wants to do.”
“In spite of one’s duty to others?”
“People that you love?”
“No, that I ... that one admires and respects.”