“Somebody in England.”
She didn't tell him more. Did that mean that she wasn't altogether pleased with her choice? They sat for a while, watching the tree shadows in the moonlight, which had become suddenly melancholy; the concertina was playing adagio lamentoso.
“What was the matter, Lanny? Did you think I was a gold digger, or something horrid?”
“No, dear,” said he, truthfully. “I was afraid I mightn't be fair to you.”
“Couldn't you have left that to me?”
“Perhaps I should have. It's hard to be sure what's right.”
“I wouldn't have made any claims on you — honestly not. I've learned to take care of myself, and I mean to.” They were silent once more; then she put her hand on his and said: “I'm truly sad about it.”
“Me too,” he replied; and again they watched the wavering shadows of the trees.
III
They talked about the relationship of the sexes, so much in the thoughts of young people in these days. They had thrown overboard the fixed principles of their forefathers, and were groping to find a code which had to do with their own happiness, the thing they really believed in. If you were going to have babies, that was another matter; but so long as you couldn't afford to have babies, and didn't mean to — what then?