“I’m so uncomfortable!” fretted Istra.
“See here, Istra, please, I think I’d better go see if I can’t find a house for you to get dry in.”
“I feel too wretched to go any place. Too wretched to move.”
“Well, then, I’ll make a fire here. There ain’t much danger.”
“The place will catch fire,” she began, querulously.
But he interrupted her. “Oh, let the darn place catch fire! I’m going to make a fire, I tell you!”
“I don’t want to move. It’ll just be another kind of discomfort, that’s all. Why couldn’t you try and take a little bit of care of me, anyway?”
“Oh, hon-ey!” he wailed, in youthful bewilderment. “I did try to get you to stay at that hotel in town and get some rest.”
“Well, you ought to have made me. Don’t you realize that I took you along to take care of me?”
“Uh—”