We sat on a seat in the shade and watched the people mill around. It was nice just to sit there, but at the back of my mind I had plenty to think about. When I tried to take her band, she shifted away from me.
“Don’t make an exhibition,” she said sharply.
“Who cares?” I asked, surprised. “Let’s talk about ourselves, Myra.”
“Of course,” she said, “what about ourselves?”
“Do we get married?” I said, not knowing whether that was what I wanted or not, but anxious to see how she would react.
“I don’t think so,” she said, staring across the lake at the distant couples walking close together on the other side. “Why get married? Anyway, I wouldn’t marry a man who hasn’t got a position, Why should I? I’ve been getting on all right on my own.”
“People don’t get married for position or money,” I said gently. “They get married because they love each other.”
“Who told you that?” she glanced at me quickly and laughed. “That sounds like ‘What Every Girl Should Know.’ That love stuff went out with the Civil War.”
“There are times,” I said crossly, “when I’d like to throw you into a lake. Can’t we be serious once in a while?”
“Not until you get a job. Then I might.”