Verne considered, standing by the door to the hall. He twisted back and forth, frowning. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say. About Barbara. Maybe she is too old for you. It’s a difficult question. You have to work it out for yourself. I can’t work it out for you. But I think you’re overrating her experience. I doubt if she’s been around as much as you seem to think.”
“It’s terrible to be too young,” Carl murmured.
“Is it?”
“I keep telling myself that eventually I’ll be as old as everyone else, but by that time they’ll be even older. I’ll never catch up.”
“You can also be too old,” Verne said.
“I suppose so. I know some people feel that way. But that’s certainly just an academic problem to me. When you’re too young you feel left out. You haven’t done any of the things other people have done. Every time you open your mouth you say something foolish. Like—like a kid.”
Verne opened the door. “Well, don’t worry about it.”
Carl followed after him plaintively. “But look, Verne. I wish you’d tell me what you think. Am I too young for Barbara? If I am, then maybe I better forget about her.”
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. I just meant our being together. Like today.” Carl smiled his wide, honest smile. “I enjoy being with her. It’s nice to have somebody to read to.”
“You’re not too young to read to her, for Christ’s sake.”
Carl was silent. “I wouldn’t want to be with her if she were laughing at me,” he murmured.
“I don’t think she is.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“Well, I wouldn’t give up. At least, not for a little while. Try it out.”
“You think it’s all right, then?”
Verne took a deep breath, a weary breath. “I don’t know. It’s a deep problem. Only time will tell. Maybe one day we’ll know.”
“I went out during high school to dances, and there was a club I was in that had parties once in a while. But I never went around with girls much. I was always reading or doing that sort of thing. I was never very lucky with girls.”
“I’ll see you later.” Part of Verne disappeared into the hall.
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know.” Verne closed the door after him. He was alone in the gloomy hall. “I have no idea.”
Barbara’s light was visible, gleaming through the darkness above him as he mounted the stairs to the porch of the women’s dorm building. He entered the dark corridor and climbed to the second floor. Barbara’s door was partly open, down the hall ahead of him.
“Who’s there?” Barbara stepped out into the hall.
“Me.”
“For God’s sake. What are you doing around here so late?” She had been brushing her hair. In one hand she held her brush, tapping it against her leg angrily. She had on dirty army pants and a bra. Her feet were bare.
“I got restless.”
They stood looking at each other, Barbara tapping her brush, Verne plucking aimlessly at his shirt cuff. In the dim light from the lamp, shining out into the hall, the girl’s bare arms and shoulders glowed and sparkled, each tiny hair distinct and alive.
“You just took a bath,” Verne said. “You’re still damp.”
“Well?” She put her hands on her hips. Verne gazed down at her bare feet.
“Well what?”
“What do you want? Do you want to come in?”
“I suppose so. May I?”
“I don’t know.”
Verne scowled. “You don’t know? That’s a new one. Why not? What’s the matter?”
There was silence.
“Why can’t I come in?”
Barbara turned abruptly, going back into her room. “All right. Come on.”
Verne followed after her. She closed the door to the hall. The room was tidy and neat. All the clothing had been put away. Prints were up on the walls. And there was even a vase of flowers on top of one of the dressers.
“Nice,” Verne said. He sat down in a chair, crossing his legs. “Combing your hair?”
“Yes.” Barbara sat down on the bed. She had fixed up a mirror. She began to brush again, moving the brush through her heavy dark hair, slowly and regularly.
“You have nice feet,” Verne said presently.
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry to bother you.”
“That’s all right.” Her voice was distant. Remote. She went on brushing, frowning into the mirror, her head on an angle.
“Have a good time today?”
She shot him a glance. “When?”
“Up in the hills.”
“Not too bad. It got a little too cold and damp for me. The ground doesn’t dry out completely.”
“It will later on.”
“We won’t be here later on.”
“That’s true. But you did have fun?”
“Yes. I suppose you’d call it that.”
Verne got up and wandered around the room. He stopped at the dresser, examining the vase of flowers. “What sort of flowers are these?”
“Roses.”
“They’re too small to be roses.”
“Well, then I don’t know.”
There was silence. Barbara went on brushing her hair. Verne stooped down to see what books were in the bookcase. He pulled one out and thumbed through it.
“Ezra Pound. How are these?”
“Personae? Not bad. It was a gift.”
“A gift.”
“From Felix and Penny.”
“Oh.” Verne put the book back into place. “How are they? I haven’t heard from them for a long time.”
“They have a child. A boy.”
“I knew that.”
“Then you know as much as I do.”
Verne smiled. “Thanks.”
“Perhaps more.” Barbara studied him. “What’s on your mind? I can tell something’s going on inside. You’re restless. Jumpy.”
“Am I?”
Barbara put down her brush. She turned to face him. “Has it got anything to do with our going up into the hills today?”
Verne was silent. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
“It does have something to do with it.”
“Maybe so.”
Barbara walked across the room to the closet and took down a jacket. She put it around her, fastening the cord into place. A long-sleeved jacket, pale yellow. She returned to the bed and seated herself. From her purse she took a cigarette and lit it slowly. “It was your idea, you know. You suggested it.”
“I did?”
“You wanted to bring him in.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I don’t understand you. What do you want, Verne? First you say—”
“Let’s not argue. I’m too tired.”
Barbara leaned back, blowing smoke toward him in a great cloud. The smoke mixed with the light from the lamp. “It would be interesting to know what goes on inside all the nooks and crannies of your mind. I guess it would take a first-rate analyst to figure out what’s the matter.”
“There’s nothing the matter. I just came over to spend a little time with you. That’s all.”
“Really?”
“Can’t we sit and talk? Have we got to the point where we can’t do that anymore?”
“We can talk for fifteen minutes.” She looked at her watch. “Then I’m going to bed.”
“You’re pretty damn hostile, all of a sudden.”
“Reaction to yesterday. I’ll get over it. In time.”
“That’s good.” Verne tried to make himself comfortable on the chair, drawing his feet under the chair, his arms folded. “Brrrrr. It’s chilly in here.”