“She’s young, Cliff. You happen to have been through a good deal lately; but Billie— Everything’s been happening to you; nothing to her.” He finished lamely: “You know it isn’t her fault, don’t you?”

Cliff gazed moodily into the surf, his forehead troubled and frowning. “Gee, sometimes I even think—” He broke off, as if disgusted with himself.

“Better not say it.”

Surprised, he turned. “What was I going to say?”

“Some such thing, I suppose, as—that you should have waited till after the war.”

“Gosh, that’s exactly—”

“Well, you mustn’t even think it.”

“I’ve got things to do, darn it,” he said vehemently. “I can’t settle down yet, not while the war is on!”

“I’ve noticed Billie doesn’t believe you’re going to get back into the service. Not even yet.”

“I am, though, I certainly am. I’ve got to!”

“Then”—without even caring, Grandin wondered how much he had any right to be saying this—“then you’ve got to make her accept it and know it. Otherwise, it’s not fair.”

Cliff’s feelings came out in a rush of words. “Johnnie, that’s the whole trouble, that’s the very thing that’s been on my mind, I can’t get rid of it, I simply don’t know what to do about it. You’re right, you’re absolutely right—men understand these things; women don’t. When I tell Billie I’m serious about going back, I run up against the same thing every time. How can I make her believe when she won’t? Like you said, she doesn’t want to. And so we—we talk about something else, or—don’t talk at all. . . .” After a moment he went on again, but in another voice entirely, low and serious: “There only one thing that helps. I love Billie. I’ve always loved her. We used to have swell times together. She’s the best girl I ever had. There’s nobody I’d rather be with. We always had a wonderful time. From the day I went away, we planned to get married. I was the happiest guy in the world to think she’d even have me. And all through boot camp and the ’Canal and the months in the hospital, I thought of Billie and couldn’t wait to get back to her. Well, now we’re married. . . .” He fell into a gloomy silence, then, as if he had nothing more to say.

Grandin felt an infinite sympathy for him and wished he could have been of some help. Life was pretty poorly ordered, he reflected, when all one could do in such a case was stand aside and feel sorry.