"Well, then, I'm egoistic to the root." Catherine jerked her hand away from his grasp. "At any rate, the situation is intolerable." "Poor old girl!" Charles patted her knee. "The summer has been dull, hasn't it?" "It's not just that. Do you know, I was almost happier while you were in France and I was working--than I am now!" "Didn't care if I did get hit by a shell, eh? Didn't miss me at all?" "I did, and you know it." Catherine was silent, her eyes straining toward him in the darkness. "That was part of the war excitement, wasn't it?" "No. But something happened in me when you told me you were going. I had been living just in you, you and the two children. I thought that was all I ever wanted. And I thought you felt toward me the same way. Then--you could throw it over--because you wanted something else." "Catherine, we've had that out dozens of times. You know it was a chance for the experience of a lifetime, psychological work in those hospitals. And then--well, I had to get in it." "I know. I didn't say a word, did I? But I went to work and I liked it. Then you came back----" "Well?" His word hung tenderly between them. "Yes." Catherine sighed. "Like falling in love again, wasn't it? Only deeper. And we wanted Letty." Her voice quavered again. "That's it! I love you so much. But you don't sit down in your love--and devour it--and let it devour you. It isn't right, Charles, help me! I"--she laughed faintly--"I'm like your shell-shocked soldiers. You couldn't really cure them until peace came. Then they weren't shell-shocked any more. I'm shell-shocked too, and I can't cure myself, and I see no armistice. I'm growing worse. I know why women have hysterics and all sorts of silly diseases. I'll have 'em too in a day or so!" "Funny, isn't it, when I'd like nothing better than a chance to loaf here with the kids. But you'll get back to town soon and see people, theaters, club----" "And hear about the whooping cough the Thomases had--and--oh, damn!" Catherine was crying suddenly, broken, stifled sobs. Charles pulled her down into his arms, holding her firmly against his chest. "There, old girl! Stop it! What do you want?" Catherine pushed herself away from him, her hands braced against him. "I won't be silly." She flung her hand across her eyes. "I'm sorry. But I've tried to figure it out, and I just drop into a great black gulf, and drown!" "What are you figuring on?" Charles let his fingers travel slowly along the curve of her cheek until they shut softly about her throat. Catherine held herself sternly away from the comfort of touch. "I can't endure it, day after day, the same things. Petty manual jobs. And I'm older every day. And soon the children will be grown up, and I'll be flat on the dump heap." "In a few more years, Cathy, I'll have more money. Now you know we can't afford more servants, I'm sorry." "I don't want more from you!" Catherine cried out. "I want to do something myself!"