And the little god of Love turn the spit, spit, spit?'"
"I suppose there should be a fire for the pot-boilers as well as for the dishes."
"Oh dear, I suppose so."
"I think, Miss Whitridge—"
"Gwen, you mean."
"I think, Gwen, that you are quite young enough to wait and see."
"Twenty-one seems awfully old."
"When you are my age it will seem remarkably young."
"Perhaps. However, there doesn't seem to be anything else to do but wait. We'd better go back now, don't you think? It has been the loveliest afternoon, and I thank you so much for all you have said and done for a girl who has absolutely no claim on you."
"No claim? Hasn't friendship a claim?"