“Now, what’s coming?” I thought to myself, but, putting on a brave front, I answered, “Fire away, then.”
“I feel you are unhappy. I feel it so strongly.”
“I am neither happy nor unhappy,” I said, being on my guard. “All I am thinking about now is going back and doing my duty, because it is quite immaterial, so long as the war lasts, what I plan to do.”
“I am thinking of Anne.”
“Now, we have it! Young lady, there is such a thing as imagining you see too much.”
“Don’t you think, David,” she said, not paying the slightest attention to me, “that it would be kinder, more honest, if you told her—”
“Told her what?”
“That you love some one else.”
I jumped at this, in great wrath.