It's not that.

It's you I'm thinking of, and what you may think of me a minute from now.

Joanne, I've given my word to old Donald.

He has lived in my promise.

I've got to keep that promise--I must go into the North with him." She had drawn one of his hands into her lap and was fondling it with her own soft palm and fingers.
"Of course, you must, John.