“Can you imagine being cool, really cold, after a month of this terrible heat of India?” she asked.
Gale could not, and said so.
“Well, try it,” said Isabelle.
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Oh! Go to Boston! No one has any sense today!” Gale exclaimed. “Perhaps it’s the heat. I’ll try thinking about being cold. The shores of a northern lake deep in the evergreen forest—wild duck—perhaps a moose—way back in Michigan.” She laughed as she rose and hurried away.
“I’ll drive out to see Mac,” Gale told herself. “Mac is always so sober and matter-of-fact about things.”
She found him directing the placing of a new anti-aircraft gun.
“So Mac isn’t going,” she thought. Her heart seemed to sink. She liked Mac and had counted on working with him for a long time. They made a good team, she thought.
And then it occurred to her that she was on the wrong track—that she herself was going nowhere.