Free So Little Time by John P. Marquand Page A

married?”
    â€œEthel?” Jeffrey said. “Yes, she’s married. They’re living in West Springfield.”
    He did not know why he added where they were living, except that his mind was running that way.
    â€œShe was a very lovely girl,” Walter said. “She must still be a very lovely person. What became of Alf?”
    â€œIn California, the last I heard of him,” Jeffrey said. “San Bernardino, California.”
    â€œAlf always struck me,” Walter said, “as being kind of wild. Is Alf still that way?”
    â€œYes,” Jeffrey said, “he’s still that way.” Walter was still exploring the past. Jeffrey wished that he would stop, but there was no way to stop him.
    â€œJeff,” he said, “what happened to that girl you used to go with? Of course, I was just a kid, but we used to see you out walking.”
    â€œWhat girl?” Jeffrey asked, but he did not need to ask. He was thinking of the hideous indelicacy of the way Walter put it.
    â€œYou know,” Walter said, “Louella Barnes, the one with the big bow on the back of her head. You know.”
    â€œOh,” Jeffrey said, “Louella Barnes. She’s married.”
    â€œWho’d she marry?” Walter asked.
    â€œMilt Rolfe.”
    â€œJesus,” Walter said, “Milt Rolfe.” And there was another silence. “I always thought,” Walter added, “she was a very lovely person.”
    Jeffrey pushed himself out of his chair. Walter was like a book which contained everything in the first chapter—there might be more pages, but the first chapter was all you needed.
    â€œDon’t go,” Walter said, “please don’t.”
    â€œI’ve got to,” Jeffrey answered, “it’s getting close to five o’clock.”
    â€œI wish you wouldn’t,” Walter said. “This has pulled me all together. Say, Jeff—”
    â€œWhat?” Jeffrey asked him.
    â€œI wish you’d stick around,” Walter said. “Mildred will be coming back. Say, Jeff, I’ve been reading the damnedest book. I wonder if you’ve read it.”
    â€œWhat book?” Jeffrey asked. He was putting on his coat.
    â€œ War and Peace ,” Walter said. “Have you ever read it?”
    â€œYes,” Jeffrey said, “I’ve read it.”
    Walter looked disappointed, but he went right on.
    â€œI just happened to run into it,” he said, “at Liggett’s Drug Store—just before I was hopping the train to lecture at Rochester. You know the way you run into things. That book weighs about a ton, but I couldn’t put it down. I read it all night at the hotel.”
    â€œWell,” Jeffrey said, “that’s fine, Walter.”
    â€œMore people ought to know about that book,” Walter said, and he gave his pleated trousers a gentle hitch. “Where’s it been all these years?—That’s what I told them at Rochester. Every thoughtful American ought to read it.”
    â€œWalter,” Jeffrey said, “just before I go, I wish you would tell me something.”
    â€œSure,” Walter said, “anything, anything at all.”
    Then Jeffrey was asking the question he had come there to ask.
    â€œWalter,” he said, “you’ve been everywhere. You’ve seen everything. You have a right to an opinion, and for God’s sake, don’t say, ‘Let’s skip it.’ What’s going on over there in Europe? What the hell is the matter with the Allies, and don’t tell me to read War and Peace .”
    He spoke more urgently than he had intended. Walter was standing almost motionless and a strange cloak of dignity seemed to have fallen on him. He was not a clown any longer, and things that he had seen were reflected on his face.
    â€œJeff,” Walter said, and a break in his voice made his words sound very kind, “you know better than to ask me