“Do you? Really want me, I mean.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I want you.”
But it was already too late; I had made the fatal error of pausing to listen. Angrily I moved away, picked up my basket and sullenly began to search for mushrooms again. My hands still trembled and there was a quiver in my legs. To complement my mood a cloud drifted across the sun and the warm woods became chilly.
“Hodge.”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t be angry. Or ashamed. If you are I shall be sorry.”
“I don’t understand.”
She laughed. “Oh my dear Hodge. Isnt that what men always say to women? And isnt it always true?”
Suddenly the day was no longer spoiled. The tension melted and we went on picking mushrooms with a new and fresh innocence.
After this I could no longer keep all thoughts of Catty out of the intimacy with Barbara; now for the first time her jealousy had grounds. I felt guilty toward both, not because I desired both, but because I didnt totally desire either.