Dan feels the pressure of the house, of the rear room, of the rows of houses, shift to Muriel. He is light. He loves her. He is doubly heavy.
“Dont know, Muriel—wanted to see you—wanted to talk to you—to see you and tell you that I know what you’ve been through—what pain the last few months must have been—”
“Lets dont mention that.”
“But why not, Muriel? I—”
“Please.”
“But Muriel, life is full of things like that. One grows strong and beautiful in facing them. What else is life?”
“I dont know, Dan. And I dont believe I care. Whats the use? Lets talk about something else. I hear there’s a good show at the Lincoln this week.”
“Yes, so Harry was telling me. Going?”
“To-night.”
Dan starts to rise.