"You haven't," said Christina. "It isn't a month ago that you were sneering about marriage. I believe in marriage: I'm old-fashioned. Marriage is a wonderful bridge; it carries you over the time when, if you're not married, you are getting used to a strange man and comparing him unfavorably with your last. Besides, it is easier to divorce a man than to run away from him. Divorce is so easy that there is no excuse for remaining single."
"I don't know whether you're being decent or not, Christina. But there are some people who have never married all their lives, and they've been perfectly happy—of course, I can't tell you who they are, it is absurd to ask me. Only I know that there have been such people—in history, I mean. I believe in marriage, but it is much worse to be married to somebody you don't love than to be living with a man you do love."
"There are times when you remind me of 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'," mused Christina. "I wonder why—oh, yes, little Eva who said such damnably true things so very truly. She died. The book had to have a happy ending anyway. Eva—Evie, I mean, I should write to your slave master and demand an explanation. I'll bet you won't, though!"
"Won't I?" Evie stiffened. "I have my self-respect to consider, Christina, and my friends. I hope Teddy hasn't read the case."
She wrote a letter, many words of which were underlined, and notes of exclamation stood up on each page like the masts of docked shipping.
Ronnie's answer was waiting for her next night.
"Will you come to the flat, Evie?"
Evie did not consult her sister; she took a lank young man into her confidence. Would he escort her and wait in the vestibule of the flats until she came out? Evie had discovered the need for a chaperon.