“I didn’t know I looked like that,” answered Bennett with an effort. “I was feeling rather happy listening to you all.”
“Looking on,” said Minna, “is a dreadfully bad habit. Whenever I do it, I always find myself wondering who is going to be married to whom, or, at any rate, who is in love with whom, and how it is all going to turn out. That is too horribly depressing. It is much better to be an airy trifler. Why don’t you try a little airy trifling?”
“You can’t do it alone.”
“That is quite good. . . . Now then—one—two—three—hop.”
“I really couldn’t trifle with you, Minna.”
This was true. The memory of the day by the river was much too vivid. Bennett was nothing if not rigidly monogamous. Minna did not know that. This new game, which had never occurred to her before, amused her. She went on:
“But you’re doing it quite nicely.”
Bennett dropped back into the darkest gloom. He began to feel angry with her and said savagely:
“Am I?”
“Indeed you are. And as you ain’t going to be a little clergyman, it doesn’t matter.”