The Little Warrior - Penn State University

“I mean to say …”
“More or less!”
Freddie glanced at her anxiously. He was not at all
sure now that he liked the way she was looking or the
tone in which she spoke. He was not a keenly observant
young man, but there did begin at this point to
seep through to his brain-centers a suspicion that all
was not well.
“Let me pull myself together!” said Freddie warily to
his immortal soul. “I believe I’m getting the raspberry!”
And there was silence for a space.
The complexity of life began to weigh upon Freddie.
Life was like one of those shots at squash which seem
so simple till you go to knock the cover off the ball,
when the ball sort of edges away from you and you
miss it. Life, Freddie began to perceive, was apt to have
a nasty back-spin on it. He had never had any doubt
when he had started, that the only difficult part of his
expedition to America would be the finding of Jill. Once
found, he had presumed that she would be delighted
to hear his good news and would joyfully accompany
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him home on the next boat. It appeared now, however,
that he had been too sanguine. Optimist as he
was, he had to admit that, as far as could be ascertained
with the naked eye, the jolly old binge might be
said to have sprung a leak.
He proceeded to approach the matter from another
angle.
“I say!”
“Yes?”
“You do love old Derek, don’t you? I mean to say,
you know what I mean, love him and all that sort of
rot?”
“I don’t know!”
“You don’t know! Oh, I say, come now! You must
know! Pull up your socks, old thing … I mean, pull
yourself together! You either love a chappie or you
don’t.”
Jill smiled painfully.
“How nice it would be if everything were as simple
and straightforward as that. Haven’t you ever heard
that the dividing line between love and hate is just a