“Shall I try to get wounded?”
“No,” she smiled, uninjured by his sarcasm, familiar with it. “Not even—emotionally, Chuck. What I wanted to do, hoped to do, what I suggested we leave that Chink spot to do, was talk.”
“So okay. Talk.”
“Do you think you could put yourself in my place for a few minutes?”
Charles laughed. “I could come mighty close!”
“You sit still. I mean—look. You tell me what the score is. I’m twenty-four. Right?”
“Practically senile. Right.”
“You’re the same. You’ve got nearly another army year. Then, some architectural office, and maybe-maybe in ten years-you’d have enough to—”
“To what? I’ve got Dad and Mom. In a year, Lenore, I could have a house in Edgeplains, maybe, and enough money for a kid or two. And if I didn’t, the folks would see to things till I got started.”
“Would I like it?” He said soberly, “Don’t think I haven’t wondered. Some parts, you’d surely like.”