(y)

" It was a very nice party," the woman said.

" I hate anniversaries," the man answered.

"I don't know," said the woman, "I sort of have a warm
feeling when I see others so happy."

"You would."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

"Why do you say it then?"

"I am tired," said the man, "I didn't mean anything."

The bedroom was conventional; two beds were chaperoned by
a separating night-table, in one corner a clothes-closet,
in the other, at an angle, a dresser.

"They are happy, aren't they?" the woman started again.

"How do you know they are happy?"

"They seem happy?"

"Tell me, Marjorie," said the man, "how exactly does
one go about seeming happy?"

"I am not in the mood for quibbling," Marjorie answered
tiredly.

"I guess we seem happy too," persisted the man.

"Aren't we?"

"Sure, sure we are," said the man and unbuttoned his shirt.

"I don't know about you, George," said Marjorie, "but
I loved every minute of it."

"This, my dear," answered George, "is straight from the
pages of the Ladies' Home Journal."

"You talk rot," Marjorie said.

"Alright, I talk rot."

George took off his shirt and hung it over a chair.

"Why do you always argue?" Marjorie said.

"Why the hell don't you stop loving minutes and just
love, period," George answered.

"You aren't making sense."

" Good for you."

" Let's not argue any longer. let's not spoil the night.

It was such a nice party."

" That's right. It was such a nice party...Forget what I said."

" I understand, darling."

" Do you, " George mocked, " do you really?" and walked into
the adjoining bathroom.

Marjorie sat down in front of the dresser and began
combing her hair.

" I like Taylor, " she called out conciliatorily.

" He is a nice fellow."

" I like him best of all your army friends."

" He is a swell guy."

" You must have gone through a lot together."

" Don't forget, darling," George answered, drying his hands,

" we only met after the war."

" All the same, I am glad you had somebody to talk to."

" I was stationed in Paris, you know. I don't know where he is."

" One can be lonely anywhere."

Why does she make me say these things, George thought.
Why doesn't she leave well enough alone. Alright I'll say it.

" Beautiful," George said and put down his toothbrush,

" simply beautiful....only it isn't so."

" I know, darling, you were very good about it all."

" I wasn't good, " said George, " and I wasn't lonely."

Marjorie said flatly: "I hate Paris."

" That's interesting."

" It's sordid."

" That's trite."

" And it has spoiled you for me."

George walked to the bathroom-door. " It isn't Paris
that spoiled me," he said.

" It's the contact with all these loose women, that's made
you like this."

(y)

George sat down on the bed." Let me tell you about
the loose women, " he said casually. " There are three kinds."
" I don't want to hear it."

"Some," said George, " do it for money...others for love."
"Stop it."

"And a third group does it from boredom."

"You are impossible and insulting."

"And all of it," continued George viciously, " is better than
doing it for a marriage certificate."

Marjorie said uncertainly: "It's a good thing I know you are
tired and not serious."

"Yes, I am tired and you are kidding yourself."

"What's become of us?" Marjorie asked heavily.

"Nothing has become of us. We are what we have always
been...only older."

"Love," said Marjorie with finality, "never grows older."
George laughed: "What is love god-damit? Is it:
'Be careful, darling, you are mussing up my lipstick.'?"
"Don't be common."

"That's right," imitated George, "that's common. Love is something
pure and noble."

"That's right," Marjorie said tentatively.

"It's something fine and decent. It's too bad it involves
going to bed," persisted George.

"I have always done what you wanted."

"It's a concession one makes to the male animal...to keep
him happy...going to bed that is?"

"That's enough for one evening."

"Love is something nice and beautiful," M mocked George,
it's too bad we spoil it by acting like beasts, isn't that
right?"

They were silent for several minutes. Finally
Marjorie said in a quiet voice. " This isn't good, darling.
We

They were silent for several minutes. Finally Marjorie
said in a quiet voice:" This isn't good, darling. We shouldn't
talk this way."

"It isn't being done, is it," answered George.

"I love you," said Marjorie, "don't tear down everything."

"Nice, true, beautiful love?"

"I love you," Marjorie repeated, "I want you.

It's no good," said George dubly, "there just isn't a
formula for this."

"We can start over again."

"It's too late," said George.

Marjorie walked over to him and took his hand."It's never
too late," she pleaded,"Please say it's not too late."

It's always too late, George thought. One minute after
the spark is gone, it's too late. One minute or a hundred
years, it's always too late. But he said: "Alright go to bed.
I'll be along in a minute."

She kissed him:"Hurry up, darling," she said.

George finished washing while Marjorie turned off the lights.
When he heard her pull back the sheets of the bed, he put away
the soap and the toothbrush. He tried the shower. Then he very
carefully wiped away a smudge on the washbasin.

Finally, when he could find nothing else to delay him,
George put out the light and went into the bedroom.