She regarded the young man coldly. The room was dark and dusty. “Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her. I believe I’m in love. Had to. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense. Wood could stand it no longer. She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said. ’ ‘Ah, non?’ Her voice was neutral. The boat rocked violently with the struggle.
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