Still it was an entirely natural and easy thing to keep one arm around Maria when they got into the taxicab. She rested her head against his shoulder. Peter realized then that he ought to kiss her. After all he had known her three weeks. It seemed the conventional thing to do. Besides he wanted to. She said nothing until the second time.
"I like the quiet ones better, Peter, my hermit. It is nice to lean against you. With you the taxi does not jounce so much. Part of my tiredness it goes into your arm."
"Won't you marry me?" asked Peter.
"Because we have kissed? And I have put my head on your shoulder? You would make me the honest woman?"
"I want to marry you."
"First we must have some supper. Maybe it is that you are just hungry. It is not upon an empty stomach to talk about getting married."
Maria would not take the table which the headwaiter offered. "No that other. The little one in the corner."
After they had ordered Maria took up a long bread stick and began breaking it into little pieces in her hand.
"Peter," she said, "I must make you very sad. Maybe I will be a little sad. You do not think I am good?"
Peter stared at her.