ââŠIt isnât that Bob was gushy and demonstrative with her. But suppose they were starting to leave a party, and a last minute discussion came up, and they came back into the room. Barbara would sunk into a chair. Bob would sat down on that chairâs arm, his arm lightly on the back of it. Or maybe they were just idling in the doorway over those last few goodnights. Heâd stood behind her, with his arms boyishly and affectionately encircling her. (âŠ) Still on some occasions there were more wide-spread and far-flung expressions of his feelings. Barbara would laugh a little in confusion when she told of those across-the-ocean phone calls that Bob made to her from London when he was there on his âA Yank at Oxfordâ picture. The first time he called, he shouted at the top of his lungs, as though he worried for fear she couldnât hear him â I love you ! I love you !â the vibrant, enthusiastic voice sang across the world. Later, after the excitement of those few moments had passed, Barbara realized that transatlantic calls were not very private, that anyone on any boat or anyone with a particular kind of short wave receiver could pick up every word they were saying. She cabled him a warning saying that probably the whole world was listening in and to be more careful in the future. But the very next night he called again, and there it was the very same message, the very same words, only if anything, shouted even more loudly and more enthusiastically. Barbaraâs âshâs !â were unheeded.â
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