“Haven’t you written them?”
“No. Only the sight draft.”
“Thank God I’m not your family.”
“I’ll send them a cable.”
“Don’t you care anything about them?”
“I did, but we quarrelled so much it wore itself out.”
“I think I’d like them. I’d probably like them very much.”
“Let’s not talk about them or I’ll start to worry about them.” After a while I said, “Let’s go on if you’re rested.”
“I’m rested.”
We went on down the road. It was dark now and the snow squeaked under our boots. The night was dry and cold and very clear.
“I love your beard,” Catherine said. “It’s a great success. It looks so stiff and fierce and it’s very soft and a great pleasure.”
“Do you like it better than without?”
“I think so. You know, darling, I’m not going to cut my hair now until after young Catherine’s born. I look too big and matronly now. But after she’s born and I’m thin again I’m going to cut it and then I’ll be a fine new and different girl for you. We’ll go together and get it cut, or I’ll go alone and come and surprise you.”
I did not say anything.
“You won’t say I can’t, will you?”
“No. I think it would be exciting.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet. And maybe I’d look lovely, darling, and be so thin and exciting to you and you’ll fall in love with me all over again.”
“Hell,” I said, “I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?”
“Yes. I want to ruin you.”
“Good,” I said, “that’s what I want too.”