She smiled.
"There was a time when I thought I never should come out of here again."
"How was that?"
"I was sick."
"That's another matter.
What was the matter?"
"Nothing much.
But I had to stay in bed.
I suppose I grew too fast and got too little to eat.
During the war and after the war there wasn't much to be had, of course."
I nodded.
"How long were you in bed, then?"
She hesitated a moment.
"About a year." "But that's a long time." I looked at her attentively.
"It's past now, long since.
But then it seemed to me a lifetime.
Do you remember in 'The Bar' once you told me about Valentin?
How after the war he couid never forget what a pleasure it was to be alive?
And how nothing else mattered to him besides?"
"You have a good memory," said I.
"Because I understood it so well.
Ever since that time I've been just as easily pleased.
I'm afraid I'm very superficial, Robby."
"Only people who think they're not superficial, are."
"But I am, definitely.
I've not much interest in the important things of life.
Only in the beautiful things.
Just this lilac here makes me happy."
"That's not superficiality—that's ultimate philosophy. The end of all wisdom, Pat."
"Not in my case.
I am superficial and frivolous."
"So am I."
"Not as I am.
You said something just now about highflying.
I am a real high-flyer."
"That's what I thought," said I.
"Yes.
I determined I would live, awhile at any rate, as I liked.
No matter if it was sensible or not.
And I did."
I laughed.
"Why look so defiant about it?"
"Because everybody said it was utterly irresponsible—I ought to save my little bit of money and get work and a position.
But I was determined I would be carefree and gay and do what I wanted and not pinch and scrape.
That was after my mother died and I had been so long in bed."
"Have you any brothers or sisters?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"I couldn't imagine it," I replied.
"Do you think it was irresponsible, too?"
"No, courageous."