“I like being alone,” I said: “that is, when you’re not here.”
“But you ought to marry,” Rose said. “Every one says so.”
“Who says so?”
“Well, Mrs. Cumnor says so.”
“I don’t pay any attention to the wives of the clergy,” I replied.
“Aunt Milly says so.”
“Oh, Aunt Milly! Of course. She has never wished me anything but ill.”
“I should feel much happier in London if I thought you were not alone,” Rose said.
“That’s absurd,” I replied. “You were not unhappy at school, and I was alone then.”
But now Rose went on to select actual wives! I used to wonder what she really thought about it all, but never discovered. It was not like her to be so persistent with a theme. She usually touched and passed on. Could it be that we were out of harmony in graver matters, and she jested to keep free of them?