"I'm quite able to look after myself, Walt."
"So you've told me before."
"After all, I've been hiking most of my life. I know exactly what to do—"
"There isn't much you can't take care of for yourself, is there, Bertha?" His voice was suddenly very cold.
"I'm not one of these rattle-brained clinging vines, if that's what you mean. I detest a woman who is always yelping to a man for help."
"Independence is one thing, Bertha; I like that in a woman. But somehow you make a man feel totally inadequate. You set yourself up as his superior in everything."
"That's nonsense, Walt. I'm quite ready to grant that you know a good deal more about physics than I do."
"Say it right, Bertha. You respect the fact that I hold a PhD." He smiled. "That isn't the same thing as respecting me for a person. I knew you didn't need my help on the trail, but it was a normal courtesy to offer it. It seems to me it would be just as normal for you to accept it. Little things like that are important in relations between people."
"Forget it, Walt." She slipped her hand through his. "There, see? I'll do it just the way you want."
She was determined not to quarrel over anything so trivial, though what he said seemed childish and it tarnished the dream a little. But the rest was still good; the miracle could still happen.