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"But . . . how does that fit in with marriage?"

"Excuse me?" she said with asperity.

He shrugged. "It's a natural question, don't you think?"

Her expression did not change, except that her nostrils flared--a sign, he knew, that she was getting angry. "Have I asked you that question?" she said.

"No, but . . ."

"Well?"

"I'm just wondering, Jo--do you expect me to live wherever your career takes you?"

"I'll try to fit in with your needs, and I think you should try to fit in with mine."

"But it's not the same."

"Isn't it?" She was openly annoyed now. "This is news to me."

He wondered how the conversation had become so acrimonious so quickly. With an effort at making his tone of voice reasonable and amiable, he said: "We've talked about having children, haven't we?"

"You'll have them, as well as me."

"Not in exactly the same way."

"If children are going to make me a second-class citizen in this marriage, then we're not having any."

"That's not what I mean!"

"What the heck do you mean?"

"If you're appointed ambassador somewhere, do you expect me to drop everything and go with you?"

"I expect you to say: 'My darling, this is a wonderful opportunity for you, and I'm certainly not going to stand in your way.' Is that unreasonable?"

"Yes!" Woody was baffled and angry. "What's the point of being married, if we're not together?"

"If war breaks out, will you volunteer?"

"I guess I might."

"And the army would send you wherever they need you--Europe, the Far East."

"Well, yes."

"So you'll go where your duty takes you, and leave me at home."

"If I have to."

"But I can't do that."

"It's not the same! Why are you pretending it is?"

"Strangely enough, my career and my service to my country seem important to me--just as important as yours to you."

"You're just being perverse!"

"Well, Woods, I'm really sorry you think that, because I've been talking very seriously about our future together. Now I have to ask myself whether we even have one."

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