"What I mean is, we have no right to put this on a personal... emotional level. You have so much to do."
"I have no right to come into your life at this time."
"That's my worry, isn't it?" "Is it? This isn't your private affair any more, Charlie."
"You've got obligations now—not only to Professor Nemur and Dr. Strauss, but to the millions who may follow in your footsteps."
The more she talked that way, the worse I felt. She highlighted my awkwardness, my lack of knowledge about the right things to say and do.
I was a blundering adolescent in her eyes, and she was trying to let me down easy.
As we stood at the door to her apartment, she turned and smiled at me
and for a moment I thought she was going to invite me in, but she just whispered: "Good night, Charlie."
"Thank you for a wonderful evening." I wanted to kiss her good night. I had worried about it earlier. Didn't a woman expect you to kiss her?
In the novels I'd read and the movies I'd seen, the man makes the advances.
I had decided last night that I would kiss her. But I kept thinking: what if she turns me down?
I moved closer and reached for her shoulders, but she was too quick for me.
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