"No, Nancy," Ronald demurred, shaking his head, "you will never be able to stop thinking and, worse yet, to stop feeling."
The priest, finding his company unwanted, had withdrawn softly to the next hall and was watching his guests curiously through a crack in the door.
"You can never stop feeling," Ronald persisted.
"You are a Westerner," said Nancy bravely; "you don't understand our customs."
"I understand this much, Nancy, that you don't want to be married in this cruel way any more than you want to die."
In fact he thought she would rather die, but he did not like to say this openly, lest he put the thought into her head.
"One has to marry," the girl remarked calmly.
"Yes, but there are two ways of marrying. You have chosen the wrong one."
"Chosen!" she said indignantly. "I haven't chosen anything. I can't stop the winter from coming, can I? How can I stop being married? When it's time to be married, I'm married."
"You're only arguing to hide your own fear. You know as well as I do that this whole business is ghastly and wrong."