“Banzai!”
“We certainly have our compensations.”
“Com-pen-sa-tions?”
“Well—for all the things we have to give up.”
“What things?”
“The things that belong to us. To our youth. Tennis, dancing—er irresponsibility in general....”
“I’ve never once thought about any of those things; never once since I came to town” said Miriam grappling with little anxious pangs that assailed her suddenly; dimly seeing the light on garden trees, hearing distant shouts, the sound of rowlocks, the lapping of water against smoothing swinging sculls. But all that life meant people, daily association with sheltered women and complacent abominable men, there half the time and half the time away on their own affairs which gave them a sort of mean advantage, and money. There was nothing really to regret. It was different for Mag. She did not mind ordinary women. Did not know the difference; or men.
“Yes but anyhow. If we were in the sheltered life we should either have done with that sort of thing and be married—or still keeping it up and anxious about not being married. Besides anyhow; think of the awful people.”
“Intolerant child.”
“Isn’t she intolerant. What a good thing you met us.”