THE RETURN OF THE SOLDIER
Kitty : Oh, here you are. Letters?
Jenny : Only bills. (Hands them to her.)
Kitty (opening them) : Langworthy’s . . .
Jenny : I wish we could hear from Chris. It’s a fortnight since he wrote.
Kitty : Oh, don’t begin to fuss. If a woman began to worry in these days because her husband hadn’t written to her for a fortnight . . . ! Besides, if he’d been anywhere interesting, anywhere where the fighting was really hot, he’d have found some way of telling me instead of just leaving it as “somewhere in France.” He’ll be all right.
Jenny : Kitty, you’re amazing. Anyone would think you didn’t care.
Kitty : Why? Just because I won’t sit around wailing and carrying on like the Trojan women? What’s the use?
Jenny : No. None, I know. Only . . .
Kitty : Only you think me unfeeling. Don’t you?
Jenny : No . . .
Kitty : Oh, yes. You think I’m callous. I’ve often watched you thinking it. I’m not callous, Jenny. At least, I hope I’m not . . . but it’s just that I’m not made that way. I can’t see the use in worrying and fretting when there’s nothing you can do.
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