gas-stoves on television. After all, you couldn't condemn a people, could you? And what if they had done exactly that themselves? Should you make the same regrettable error? After all, they hated the reds as much as we did, they were as eager as we were to blow every stinking red in the world to hell and gone. And after all, those people, the allegedly sinned-against, had brought most of the trouble on themselves.
It was their own fault.
It was her own fault.
"Now, listen to me," he broke in on her angrily. "No, I don't want to hear any more, damnit! If you'd told me about it in the first place instead of just saying that-letting me think that-that-"
"I know," she said. "It was very bad of me. But I too was thinking something else."
"Well, now," he mumbled, "I don't want to put you in the wrong. I like you; I think the world of you, Carol. That's why I asked you what I did, told you it was important to me. I can see now how you might have taken it the wrong way, and I wish to God there was something I could do to square things up. But-"
But why did she keep looking at him that way, smiling that totally vacant smile; waiting for him to fill the vacuum with life? He had said he was sorry, apologized for something that was partially her own fault. But still she sat there waiting. Did she seriously expect him to give up his life, the only way of life acceptable to him, merely to correct a mistake? Well, she had no right to do so! Even if he could give what she had expected and apparently still desired, he would not do it.
She was a nice girl, and it wouldn't be fair to her.
"Now, I'll tell you what," he said, smiling ingratiatingly. "We can't change what's already happened, so why don't we just pretend it didn't happen? How will that be, hmm? Okay? We'll just forget this, and make a brand new start?"
She looked at him silently.
"Fine," Roy said briskly. "That's my sweet girl. Now, I'll skim on out of here, and let you finish dressing and-and, uh…"
He left, pulling on his robe as he went out of the room. Returning to the den, he flopped back down on the hospital bed, stared out unseeing at the panorama to the south; still seeing the girl in the bedroom. He'd put things very badly, he guessed. His usual glibness had failed him, just when he needed it most, and he'd sounded peevish and small-time.
What had happened to him? he wondered. What had gone wrong with his pitch?
It had been an honest mistake. She'd suffered no actual loss because of it. Why couldn't he make her understand that? Why, when he could so easily pull a real swindle without a kickback?
You can 't cheat an honest man, he thought . And was unreasonably irritated by the thought.
He heard her approaching, the starchy rustle of her uniform. Working up a smile, he sat up and turned around.
She was wearing her coat, a quaintly old-world garment. She was carrying her small nurse's kit.
"I am leaving now," she said. "Is there anything you want before I go?"
"Leaving! But- Oh, now, look," he said winningly. "You can't do that, you know. It's not professional. A nurse can't walk out on a patient."
"You do not need a nurse. We both know it. At any rate, I have ceased to be a nurse to you."
"But-but, damnit, Carol-"
She turned away from him, started for the door. He looked after her helplessly for a moment, then caught up with her and pulled her around facing him.
"Now, I'm not going to let you do this," he said. "There's no reason to. You need the job, and my mother and I both want you to have it. Why-"
"Let me go, please." She pulled away from him, again moving toward the door.
Hastily, he placed himself in front of her. "Don't," he begged. "If you're sore at me, okay; maybe you think you've got a right to be. But my mother's involved here. What will she think, I mean, what will I tell her when she comes home and finds you're-"
He broke off, reddening, realizing that he had sounded fearful of Lilly. A ghost of a smile touched Carol's lips.
"Your
It was their own fault.
It was her own fault.
"Now, listen to me," he broke in on her angrily. "No, I don't want to hear any more, damnit! If you'd told me about it in the first place instead of just saying that-letting me think that-that-"
"I know," she said. "It was very bad of me. But I too was thinking something else."
"Well, now," he mumbled, "I don't want to put you in the wrong. I like you; I think the world of you, Carol. That's why I asked you what I did, told you it was important to me. I can see now how you might have taken it the wrong way, and I wish to God there was something I could do to square things up. But-"
But why did she keep looking at him that way, smiling that totally vacant smile; waiting for him to fill the vacuum with life? He had said he was sorry, apologized for something that was partially her own fault. But still she sat there waiting. Did she seriously expect him to give up his life, the only way of life acceptable to him, merely to correct a mistake? Well, she had no right to do so! Even if he could give what she had expected and apparently still desired, he would not do it.
She was a nice girl, and it wouldn't be fair to her.
"Now, I'll tell you what," he said, smiling ingratiatingly. "We can't change what's already happened, so why don't we just pretend it didn't happen? How will that be, hmm? Okay? We'll just forget this, and make a brand new start?"
She looked at him silently.
"Fine," Roy said briskly. "That's my sweet girl. Now, I'll skim on out of here, and let you finish dressing and-and, uh…"
He left, pulling on his robe as he went out of the room. Returning to the den, he flopped back down on the hospital bed, stared out unseeing at the panorama to the south; still seeing the girl in the bedroom. He'd put things very badly, he guessed. His usual glibness had failed him, just when he needed it most, and he'd sounded peevish and small-time.
What had happened to him? he wondered. What had gone wrong with his pitch?
It had been an honest mistake. She'd suffered no actual loss because of it. Why couldn't he make her understand that? Why, when he could so easily pull a real swindle without a kickback?
You can 't cheat an honest man, he thought . And was unreasonably irritated by the thought.
He heard her approaching, the starchy rustle of her uniform. Working up a smile, he sat up and turned around.
She was wearing her coat, a quaintly old-world garment. She was carrying her small nurse's kit.
"I am leaving now," she said. "Is there anything you want before I go?"
"Leaving! But- Oh, now, look," he said winningly. "You can't do that, you know. It's not professional. A nurse can't walk out on a patient."
"You do not need a nurse. We both know it. At any rate, I have ceased to be a nurse to you."
"But-but, damnit, Carol-"
She turned away from him, started for the door. He looked after her helplessly for a moment, then caught up with her and pulled her around facing him.
"Now, I'm not going to let you do this," he said. "There's no reason to. You need the job, and my mother and I both want you to have it. Why-"
"Let me go, please." She pulled away from him, again moving toward the door.
Hastily, he placed himself in front of her. "Don't," he begged. "If you're sore at me, okay; maybe you think you've got a right to be. But my mother's involved here. What will she think, I mean, what will I tell her when she comes home and finds you're-"
He broke off, reddening, realizing that he had sounded fearful of Lilly. A ghost of a smile touched Carol's lips.
"Your
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