He was shocked and she knew that she had said the right thing if in the wrong manner.
“But you got married,” said Holton.
She nodded. “I’m afraid I didn’t know very much about him then. I went to London after the war was over and I stayed with some artists there. I met him and he made love to me. I thought he was very wonderful. I had heard stories about him: that he was ... was like these people here.” She gestured to include the room. “I didn’t believe the stories. I married him. I found he wanted me for camouflage.”
“Why don’t you divorce him then?”
“Perhaps I shall someday. It seems so much trouble, though. He’s really a very nice person.”
Holton shook his head, confused. “I don’t see ... I don’t see why he married you in the first place if he was....”
“He could still like me, Bob.”
“I don’t see how.”
She smiled. “It is hard to explain but anyway you know now that I don’t feel too deeply about him. You understand this?”
“I suppose so,” said Robert Holton. He is beginning to understand, thought Carla, happy now: her words had begun to build the bridge between them. Soon they would meet again.