“We were in another book”, She wrote.

“I’ve always thought that you were the most anti-social animal I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“I need people to give me work.  I’m not building mausoleums.  Do you suppose I should need them in some other way?  In a closer, more personal way?”

“You don’t need anyone in a very personal way.”

“No.”

“You’re not  even boasting about it.”

“Should I?”

“You can’t.  You’re too arrogant to boast.”

“Is that what I am?”

“Don’t you know what you are?”

“No.  Not as far as you’re seeing me, or anyone else.”

Heller sat silently, his wrist describing circles with a cigarette.  Then he laughed, and said:

“That was typical.”

“What?”

“That you didn’t ask me to tell you what you are as I see you.  Anybody else would have.”

“I’m sorry.  It wasn’t indifference.  You’re one of the few friends I want to keep.  I just didn’t think of asking.”

“I know you didn’t.”  That’s the point.  You’re’ a self-centered monster, Howard.  The more monstrous because you’re utterly innocent about it.”

“That’s true.”

“You should show a little concern when you admit that.”

“Why?”

“You know, there’s a thing that stumps me.  You’re the coldest man I know.  And I can’t understand why—-knowing that you’re actually a fiend in your quiet sort of way—-why I always feel, when I see you, that you’re the most life-giving person I’ve ever met.”