Philip Wylie - The Smuggled Atom Bomb

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it! I’m still distraught — judgment’s shot!”

Her eyes shone. “Sure is! You let go. Why?”

Duff turned away a little. “I’ve tried to be a brotherly kind of a guy, Eleanor. It’s a beam I can’t entirely stay on. But after all, your type of man is some really elegant person, like Scotty.”

“Scotty is pretty elegant,” she answered very softly. “He had a big crush on me. I had to kind of bust it up — pretend I was crazy about six other lads. He caught on. I mean, he caught on to who I really did care for. So he pitched in to help that guy. It’s like Scotty.”

Duff nodded and his blue eyes were never more vague, more forlorn. “Then there is somebody.”

Her first words of love were, “What does a girl have to do in the case of scientists—

hire a marriage broker? You dope! You oaf! You nitwit! You precious dumbbell!”

Marian, who had come quietly through the door, yelled, “Mother! Duff and El are having a quarrel!”

Her big sister ignored the interruption and went on talking to Duff in a strange voice,

“Yes, there’s somebody! Somebody who ought to find out — seeing I phone all over the country to get him when I’m in trouble! Seeing how jealous I am about his dating another girl! Somebody I’ve practically been married to for a year and a half! At least, I’ve had him around, like a husband. And we’ve had all the trials and tribulations and domestic problems and discomforts and the scrimping and misery and work of marriage, together. Enough to know for sure we could make a swell team! And none of the joy, except a sort of — distant companionship.”

“Mother,” Marian bawled jubilantly, “I was wrong! They’re necking!” She added in mock horror, “You better come out here and chaperon!”

Eleanor drew away a little and said, “I’ve loved you, you lug, since the day you came stammering in here, towering and shuffling, polite and uneasy, asking for a place to board that was ‘reasonable’! Everything at the Yateses’ is reasonable, Duff — even poor — and maybe we’re crazy if we get married, the way it is. But we’ll make out. I know it!”

“About that,” he said, and gulped, “maybe I ought to tell you. I just got a job.”