“Are you going to marry Iva?” she asked, looking down at his pale brown hair. “Don’t be silly,” he muttered. The unlighted cigarette bobbed up and down with the movement of his lips. “She doesn’t think it’s silly. Why should she—the way you’ve played around with her?” He sighed and said: “I wish to Christ I’d never seen her.” “Maybe you do now.” A trace of spitefulness came into the girl’s voice. “But there was a time.” “I never know what to do or say to women except that way,” he grumbled,
