“My dear Eddy,” said Rosa, when they had turned out of the High Street, and had got among the quiet walks in the neighbourhood of the Cathedral and the river: “I want to say something very serious to you. I have been thinking about it for a long, long time.”
“I want to be serious with you too, Rosa dear. I mean to be serious and earnest.”
“Thank you, Eddy. And you will not think me unkind because I begin, will you? You will not think I speak for myself only, because I speak first? That would not be generous, would it? And I know you are generous!”
He said, “I hope I am not ungenerous to you, Rosa.” He called her Pussy no more. Never again.
“And there is no fear,” pursued Rosa, “of our quarrelling, is there? Because, Eddy,” clasping her hand on his arm, “we have so much reason to be very lenient to each other!”
“We will be, Rosa.”
“That’s a dear good boy! Eddy, let us be courageous. Let us change to brother and sister from this day forth.”
“Never be husband and wife?”
“Never!”
Neither spoke again for a little while. But after that pause he said, with some effort: