“You have not thought much about men.”
“I don’t know.”
“But they, they have thought about you.”
“Oh, I’m sure I don’t know.”
“You do not care, perhaps?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. Here’s the coffin. I’m afraid it’s not very comfortable. It’s so low.”
“What is it?”
“It’s an overturned seedling box. There’s grass all round. I wonder whether it’s damp,” said Miriam suddenly invaded by a general uncertainty.
“Oh, we will sit down, it will not be damp. Your future brother-in-law has not scrubbed also the ivy on the wall,” he pursued as they sat down on the broad low seat, “it will spoil your blouse.”
Miriam leaned uncomfortably against the intervening arm.