‘I think we will leave the sheets for to-day. Send me the bath towels and the face towels; that will be enough. We can send them back afterwards, if we want to,’ she said to me, and she took me into the tea-room which was in that shop.
We sat in two basket chairs, very low, with cushions in them, in a corner, away from the door. There were little white cloths with green shamrocks round the edge on the tables, and a band was playing, a string band, with women in green uniforms playing. A waitress came round with a big tray of cakes, very gorgeous cakes, that you took with a fork.
I kept saying to myself:
‘It can’t be true. I can’t be going to marry him, really, in two weeks. This cannot be going to happen to me, this horrible thing!’
I wished that the band would stop playing and let me think.
I looked at Cousin Delia; she was looking at me. She put out her hand and let it rest on mine.
‘Dear Heart,’ she said very gently, ‘it is not too late. Don’t do this, unless you are sure.’
I said:
‘I want to think. I don’t know what I am doing. I didn’t until just now.’