“Well,” I said, “the yarn looked all right at first sight; that article of ‘T’s’ in the Bulletin turned me off it; listen and see what you think of it: There was a young fellow, a bit of a genius——”
“Just so, it’s the geniuses that build the sex problems. It’s an autobiography. Go on.”
“Well, he married a girl.”
Mitchell (sotto voce): “God help her.”
“He loved her, and she loved him: but after they’d been married a while he found out that, although he understood her, she didn’t and couldn’t possibly ever understand him.”
“Yes,” commented Mitchell, “and if he hadn’t caught the sex problem, nor been reading about it, he would never have found that out.”
“It was a terrible disappointment,” I continued—I had got into the habit of taking Mitchell’s interruptions and comments as matters of course—“He saw that his life would be a hell with her——”
Mitchell: “Didn’t strike him that her life would be a hell with him?”
“They had no thought in common.”
Mitchell: “She was in her right mind then.”