The Worm was silent; smoking slowly and watching her. He was thinking very soberly. “Whom among women the gods would destroy they first make honest.”
Sue felt his gaze and raised her chin with a little jerk; tried to smile; finally caught up the box of roses and buried her face in them.
“Peter oughtn't to spend the money,” she cried, not unhumorously, “but it is dear of him. Every time I come into the room the flowers sing to me.”
“After all,” said he, helping her out, “it's a relief, in these parts, to see some one taking marriage seriously. Date set yet?”
She nodded.
“Not telling?”
She shook her head.
“Soon?”
She nodded. “That's all. No more questions.”
“Religious ceremony?”