“But sure what kind of person would I be if I didn’t worry?” she asked in a rare moment of empathy. “I’m very fond of you, Cyril. You should know that by now.” “I do,” I said. “And I’m very fond of you too.” “You’re supposed to say that you love me.” “All right,” I replied. “I love you. How are your chops?” “Undercooked. And the potatoes are very salty.” “You put the salt on yourself. I saw you.” “I know, but still. I’d say something to the waiter but, as you know, I don’t like to cause a fuss.”
