"That may be," she retorted primly, "and I have often wondered whether I should allow a man of middle-age to make love to me."
Vernon wrinkled with annoyance at such a description. He certainly lacked humour.
"But then, you see, I am in love with you, and not marrying you because our estates join like my cousin Clarice who, we all agreed, was old enough to know better."
"Young enough, you mean. Morality rusts with the years."
"I don't know what you are talking about, but it sounds like a text."
"It is a text, my dear, the text of the man of the world."
"I hate texts, but I don't hate goodness and you must promise never, never to swear again, and—never, never to try to kiss me."
"Not even when we are wed?"
"That's another matter."
"Perhaps when you are old and wise and able to kiss you won't like kissing."