“What are they?”
“Don’t you know?”
“You think work is one,” she said doubtfully.
“So you think. And companionship is the other.”
“Roger, dear, I’m afraid I haven’t given you companionship; I’ve been stupid, self-absorbed, idle—”
“Anything else?”
“But you have been desolate, sometimes.”
“My work has been my companionship.”
“Then there is only one blessed thing to you,” she said, merrily. “May you get it.”
“I am getting it every day.”