Amy only looked, she did not ask who.
“Lawrence Newt,” said Aunt Martha, calmly looking at Amy—“Lawrence Newt, who came to me as a brother comes to a sister, and said, ‘Be of good cheer!’ Amy, what is the matter with you and Lawrence Newt?”
“How, aunty?”
“How many months since you met here?”
“It was several months ago, aunty.”
Aunt Martha sat quietly sewing, and after some time said,
“He is no longer a young man.”
“But, Aunt Martha, he is not old.”
Still sewing, the grave woman looked at the burning cheeks of her younger companion. Amy did not speak.
The older woman continued: “When you and he went from this room months ago I supposed you would be his wife before now.”