“I mean it,” she insisted. “In my sober senses I am glad the war is over. I’d be a monster if I were not glad. But––what is going to take its place? Because we must have something, you know. One can’t endure a perfect void, can one?”
Again they laughed.
“It was such a tremendous thing,” she explained. “I did want to be part of it before it ended. But of course peace is a tremendous thing, too–––”
And they both laughed once more.
“Anybody overhearing us,” she confided to him, “would think us mere beasts. Of course you are glad the war is ended: that’s why you fought. And I’m glad, too. And I’m going to rent a house in New York and find something to occupy this void I speak of. But isn’t it nice that I should come to you about it?”
“Jolly,” he said. “And now at last I’m going to learn your name.”
“Oh. Don’t you know it?”
“I wanted to ask you, but there seemed to be no proper opportunity–––”
“Of course. I remember. There seemed to be no reason.”
“I was sorry afterward,” he ventured.