“I dare say. I couldn’t afford it.”
“The price of a seat?”
“No, the solace of one; the one you’re in; it’s almost a housewife in its economies.”
“Economies?”
“Yes, economies of content. It guarantees that while I stay in its arms. I think I buy it cheap.”
“Content! I wouldn’t take it as a gift; it’s a despair with a trousseau, a sort of bridal and sanctified kind of funk. Oh, content’s a miserable thing.”
South laughed.
“Well,” he said, “it’s not often offered with a ring. Will you take another cup?”
She pushed hers toward him and asked if he had any brandy in the house.
South nodded at a liquor stand, but suggested crème de menthe.