But if Elfrida didn't care, as a matter of principle Janet was unable to see the least harm in making her say so as often as possible.

They were talking together in Mr.
Cardiff's library late one June afternoon, when it seemed to Janet that the crisis came, that she could never again speak of such matters to Elfrida without betraying herself.
Things were growing dim about the room, the trees stood in dusky groups in the square outside.

There was the white glimmer of the tea-things between them, and just light enough to define the shadows round the other girl's face, and write upon it the difference it bore, in Janet's eyes, to every other face.
"Oh!" Elfrida was saying, "it does make life more interesting, I admit--up to a certain point.

And I suppose it's to be condoned from the point of view of the species.

Whoever started us, and wants us to go on, excuses marriage, I suppose.