She smiled, meditative, wondering.
"I dare say, for my part, I'd have eaten that apple if the serpent had been at all persuasive. Bernal, I wonder—and wonder—and wonder—I'm never done. And Aunt Bell says I'll never be a sweet and wholesome and stimulating companion to my husband, if I don't stop being so vague and fantastic."
"What does she call being vague and fantastic?"
"Not wanting any husband."
"Oh!"
"Bernal, it's like the time that you ran off when you were a wee thing—to be bad."
"And you cried because I wouldn't take you with me."
"I can feel the woe of it yet."
"You're dry-eyed now, Nance."
"Yes—and the pink parasol and the buff shoes I meant to take with me are also things of the past. Mercy! The idea of going off with an unbeliever to be bad and—everything! 'The happy couple are said to look forward to a life of joyous wickedness, several interesting crimes having been planned for the coming season. For their honeymoon infamy they will perpetrate a series of bank-robberies along the Maine coast.' There—how would that sound?"