“I don't want to put myself on any pinnacle. If I cared enough for a woman to marry her, I'd hope to—But we are being very tragic, Christine.”
“I feel tragic. There's going to be another mistake, K., unless you stop it.”
He tried to leaven the conversation with a little fun.
“If you're going to ask me to interfere between Mrs. McKee and the deaf-and-dumb book and insurance agent, I shall do nothing of the sort. She can both speak and hear enough for both of them.”
“I mean Sidney and Max Wilson. He's mad about her, K.; and, because she's the sort she is, he'll probably be mad about her all his life, even if he marries her. But he'll not be true to her; I know the type now.”
K. leaned back with a flicker of pain in his eyes.
“What can I do about it?”
Astute as he was, he did not suspect that Christine was using this method to fathom his feeling for Sidney. Perhaps she hardly knew it herself.
“You might marry her yourself, K.”
But he had himself in hand by this time, and she learned nothing from either his voice or his eyes.