"Not he married. Whoever thinks about marriage in company like that? You might as well talk about marriage in the hen coop."
"But all the same if he cares for her, Auntie. . . ."
"Who says he cares for her? And if he does he'll settle her off and get rid of her before he marries you."
"But will that be right?" I said, whereupon my aunt rested her iron and looked at me as if I had said something shameful.
"Mary O'Neill, what do you mean? Of course it will be right. He shouldn't have two women, should he? Do you think the man's a barn-door rooster?"
My confusion was increasing, but I said that in any case my intended husband could not care for me, or he would have seen more of me.
"Oh, you'll see enough of him by and by. Don't you worry about that."
I said I was not sure that he had made me care much for him.
"Time enough for that, too. You can't expect the man to work miracles."
Then, with what courage was left me, I tried to say that I had been taught to think of marriage as a sacrament, instituted by the Almighty so that those who entered it might live together in union, peace and love, whereas . . .