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"That's strange," she said.
"I thought you would be one of these people who believe that not to worry, if you lose one woman, another will be along shortly, like a tram."
"After a while, Your Grace, one becomes rather bored with trams," he said, in a credible, mock British accent. She laughed. "Then this is a serious relationship that's gone awry?" she said. "It hasn't gone awry, because I have never been able to get this particular tram on the tracks."
"Have you told her?"
"She knows."
"Oh."
"Were you ever infatuated, as a girl, with a boy? I mean when you were ten, or twelve? And the boy was a couple of years older? 410f course," she said.
"This girl thinks she is too young for you?"
"The reverse. I was the ten-year-old hopelessly in love with a thirteen year-old girl."
"And she thought-still thinks-she's too old for you?"
"That's part of it, I think," he said.
"She can't forget the bony-kneed little boy with braces on his teeth and suppurating acne." She chuckled. "You don't have acne now," she said.
You're a damned good-looking young man, as a matter of fact. "I was sitting here developing a theory that she's been burned by love."
"All women are burned by love at one time or another," she said.
"It passes with time."
"I think she was really in love with this guy," Whittaker said.
"Which makes sense, considering the guy. And the girl."
"You know him?"
"Very well," Whittaker said.
"He died."
"And she's mourning over him?"
"Some people have said that this guy and I are-were-very much alike.
Theory two thousand and two holds that she is rejecting me because I am so much like the other guy. That she was really hurt when he kicked the bucket and is afraid of getting involved again and getting hurt again."
"That's an interesting theory," she said.
"You want my advice?"
"Why not?"
"She'll probably come to her senses," she said.
"Sooner or later. Are you willing to wait?"
"Oh, yeah. I don't have any choice in the matter."
"Then wait," she said.
