Twilight Sleep
Nona lifted her eyebrows with an effort of memory. "How did they behave?"
"They were always hitting some other fellow over the head."
She felt a little catch in her throat. "Who—particularly—does he want you to hit over the head?"
"Oh, we haven't got as far as that yet. It's just the general principle. Anybody who looks too hard at Lita."
"You would have to be hitting about! Everybody looks hard at Lita. How in the world can she help it?"
"That's what I tell him. But he says I haven't got the feelings of a gentleman. Guts, he means, I suppose." He leaned back, crossing his arms wearily behind his back, his sallow face with heavy-lidded eyes tilted to the ceiling. "Do you suppose Lita feels that too?" he suddenly flung at his sister.
"That you ought to break people's heads for her? She'd be the first to laugh at you!"
"So I told him. But he says women despise a man who isn't jealous."
Nona sat silent, instinctively turning her eyes from his troubled face. "Why should you be jealous?" she asked at length.
He shifted his position, stretched his arms along his knees, and brought his eyes down to a level with hers. There was something pathetic, she thought,
