“Oh, it’s not the married state,” she explained, slowly, looking out over the square. “I shouldn’t mind being married—married to a man. I’m married to a house.”
“It’s a very good house.”
“I dare say it is; but I’m not a snail, and can’t stand having it on my back;’ I wasn’t born under family bricks.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to leave them.”
“And why did you come here?”
She turned her head and flashed a shy glance across his eyes.
“I thought you might be leaving, too.”
She looked away as she said it, and he did not immediately reply. Presently she loosened her fingers from his, and laid her hand in her lap. She broke the silence sharply.