“What has changed you?” David asked gravely.
“The chill wind of the world, I guess; the most personal part of me is frozen stiff.”
“I never saw a warmer creature in my life,” David protested. “On that same occasion you said that being a woman was about like being a field of clover in an insectless world. You don’t feel that way nowadays, surely,—at the rate the insects have been buzzing around you this winter. I’ve counted at least seven, three bees, one or two beetles, a butterfly and a worm.”
“I didn’t know you paid that much attention to my poor affairs.”
“I do, though. If you hadn’t put your foot down firmly on the worm, I had every intention of doing so.”
“Had you?”
“I had.”
“On that occasion to which you refer I remember I also said that I had a queer hunch about Eleanor.”
“Margaret, are you deliberately changing the subject?”