"All that evening, while we were having a
jolly time at Jack Taylor's, Larry was here waiting."
"Then no wonder you had a row!" I said.
"He hadn't told me he was coming. And was I to sit here all night
alone? It's always the same--I never knew a man who really in his
heart was willing for you to have any friends, or any sort of good
time without him."
"Perhaps," I replied, "he's afraid you mightn't be true to him." I
meant this for a jest, of the sort that Claire and her friends would
appreciate. Little did I foresee where it was to lead us!
I remember how once on the farm my husband had a lot of dynamite,
blasting out stumps; and my emotions when I discovered the children
innocently playing with a stick of it. Something like these children
I seem now to myself, looking back on this visit to Claire, and our
talk.
"You know," she observed, without smiling, "Larry's got a bee in his
hat. I've seen men who were jealous, and kept watch over women, but
never one that was obsessed like him."
"What's it about?"
"He's been reading a book about diseases, and he tells me tales
about what may happen to me, and what may happen to him. When you've
listened a while, you can see microbes crawling all over the walls
of the room.
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