"All plunges aren't into cold water," the Nun observed reflectively.
"That one would be colder, I think, than a quite strange plunge—away from Nutley."
"It's a great pity we're not built so as to fall in love conveniently. It would have been so nice for you to stay—in the new place."
"I'm only letting you have it your own way, Miss Flower. I've admitted nothing."
"All that appears at present is that you needn't go if you don't like—and yet you cry about going!"
Isobel smiled.
"I might cry at leaving all my friends, especially at leaving Vivien, without wanting to stop—with Mr. Wellgood, as you insist on having it. Is that comprehensible?"
"Well, I expect I've asked enough questions," said the cunning Nun, wondering hard how she could contrive to ask another—and get an answer to it. "But in Meriton there's nothing to do but gossip to and about one's friends. That's what makes it so jolly. Why, this wedding is simply occupation for all of us! What shall we do when it's over? Oh, well, I shall be gone, I suppose."
"And so shall I—so we needn't trouble about that."
The Nun was baffled. A strange impassivity seemed to fall on her companion the moment that the talk was of Harry's wedding. She tried once again.