“You’ve shelved me, haven’t you?” he asked as they entered the tiny apartment so fragrant with his flowers.
“I didn’t mean to. Come in and we’ll talk about you.”
“About you and me.” He came in, readily.
“I didn’t understand that was what you wanted.”
She did not let him touch her and in the isolation of her room he could not persist. For a while he sat silent and she told him about herself and her lack of feeling. She had fine, clear, experienced phrases to tell of it. Yet she was conscious of making no impression.
“I’ve passed the marrying time,” she said.
“Why?”
“It involves things which have passed me by—that I no longer need.”
“You mean—children?”
“No—I haven’t a lot of sentimental yearnings about them. But of course I would like to have children. There’s an instinct to do one’s duty by the race, in every woman.”