“Ben, don’t be a damn fool!”
“Is that your answer?”
“Answer? How can I answer a crazy man? Do you think if there had been, I should ever have come back here? Do you?” In my emotion my hands cut into his shoulders and, driven on by the force of circumstances, I said fiercely, “No, I don’t approve of your marriage. You are not happy. I knew you wouldn’t be. Women like Letty never become real wives. Not that she will do anything she oughtn’t to do—she is too cold-blooded—she loves her little self more than she can ever love anybody else—but the breath of her life is flattery and adoration. God knows, I never wanted to tell you this—but you’ve forced it out of me.”
“You’re telling me nothing new.”
“In heaven’s name, why did you do it, Ben?”
He started back at some thought suggested by this outburst of mine.
“You know something about her, then—over there in Paris?”
I caught myself. Every word, I felt, was dangerous, and anything I might say a trap.
“Ben, do you realize we are discussing your wife?” I said slowly. “Do you realize how impossible this conversation is?”
“Damn it! You’re beating around the bush. You’re my brother, and I have a right to know.”