Curiously enough, with the mere putting it into words, his feeling for her seemed to grow. He was even somewhat excited. He bent toward her, his eyes on her face, and caught one of her gloved hands. He was no longer flirting with a pretty woman. He was in real earnest. But Natalie was still flirting.
“Do you want to know why I like to be with you? Because of course I do, or I shouldn't be.”
“Does a famishing man want water?”
“Because you are sane and sensible. You believe, as I do, in going on as normally as possible. All these people who go around glooming because there is a war across the Atlantic! They are so tiresome. Good heavens, the hysterical attitude of some women! And Clay!”
He released her hand.
“So you like me because I'm sensible! Thanks.”
“That's a good reason, isn't it?”
“Good God, Natalie, I'm only sensible because I have to be. Not about the war. I'm not talking about that. About you.”
“What have I got to do with your being sensible and sane?”
“Just think about things, and you'll know.”