Miriam stared into the fire and began to murmur shamefacedly.
“No more all day bézique.... No more days in the West End.... No more matinées ... no more exhibitions ... no more A.B.C. teas ... no more insane times ... no more anything.”
“What about holidays? You’ll enjoy them all the more.”
“I shall be staid and governessy.”
“You mustn’t. You must be frivolous.”
Two deeply-burrowing dimples fastened the clean skin tightly over the bulge of Miriam’s smile.
“And marry a German professor,” she intoned blithely.
“Don’t—don’t for goodney say that before mother, Miriam.”
“D’you mean she minds me going?”
“My dear!”