"I feel like hell," Brett said. "Don't let's talk."
We looked out at the plain. The long lines of trees were dark in the moonlight. There were the lights of a car on the road climbing the mountain. Up on the top of the mountain we saw the lights of the fort. Below to the left was the river. It was high from the rain, and black and smooth. Trees were dark along the banks. We sat and looked out. Brett stared straight ahead. Suddenly she shivered.
"It's cold."
"Want to walk back?"
"Through the park."
We climbed down. It was clouding over again. In the park it was dark under the trees.
"Do you still love me, Jake?"
"Yes," I said.
"Because I'm a goner," Brett said.
"How?"
"I'm a goner. I'm mad about the Romero boy. I'm in love with him, I think."
"I wouldn't be if I were you."
"I can't help it. I'm a goner. It's tearing me all up inside."
"Don't do it."
"I can't help it. I've never been able to help anything."
"You ought to stop it."
"How can I stop it? I can't stop things. Feel that?"
Her hand was trembling.
"I'm like that all through."
"You oughtn't to do it."
"I can't help it. I'm a goner now, anyway. Don't you see the difference?"
"No."
"I've got to do something. I've got to do something I really want to do. I've lost my self-respect."
