"But I'm not," said Jenny indignantly. "Only that doesn't say I'm going to live with you, if that's what you mean."
Somehow the wet and dreary morning gave a certain crudity of outline to the situation, destroying romantic enchantments and accentuating the plain and ugly facts.
"You'd be ever so much happier if you did."
"Oh, well, who cares?"
"I wish you wouldn't say that."
"Well, what an unnatural time to talk about where I'm going to live and what I'm going to do."
"It's extraordinary," said Maurice, "how much you're influenced by the unimportant little things of life. I'm as much in love with you now as I was last night when we were waltzing. You're not."
"I don't love anything now except bed."
"Yet I'm just as tired as you are."
"Who cares?"