“Yes, you did. I was trying to decide where to start your schooling. You implied your mother wants you to be married. Is that true?”
“Don’t you know it’s the wish of all mothers? You must not have one yourself.”
The look on her face. He had said something wrong.
“I don’t,” she said and turned away.
“Of course you have a mother. It’s a necessity.”
“Yes, but she died.”
“I see.”
A long silence hung between them. But it wasn’t his turn.
She turned and shook a finger at him. “What should you say next?”
What was the woman on about?
She folded her arms. “If I were a young lady and you had just discovered my mother was dead, what would you say next to me?”
“I saidI see. That’s a safe thing to say. Now it’s your turn.”
“It’s not safe. It’s unfeeling. You should sayI have the deepest sympathy for your loss.”
He made a choking sound. “Really?”
“Yes. Or, if I were a young lady to whom you wanted to propose marriage, you could say something more personal. You might sayperhaps you’ll have a larger family soon. No, no, you would sayI have no doubt you yourself will be a wonderful mother. Don’t make that face!”
He had no idea he was making a face. “What face?”
“That sour face.”
“That’s my regular face.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s the first time I’ve seen it. Even when you were angry yesterday when that other man sat next to me, you didn’t look sour. Just rageful. Let me ask you this—doyouwant to get married?”
“Yes.”
“But you think women hate you.”
“I’m an arsehole. Everyone knows it.”
“I don’t know it.” She came closer and peered at him. “I think you’re scrumptious.”
Scrumptious?She said it like it was a compliment. “I think you need spectacles.”
She backed away. “You shouldn’t be so critical of yourself.”
“I’m not. I said that because of how close you hold a book to your face.”
“Oh.”
“Believe me, I know my looks are not my problem.”
She laughed her remarkable laugh. “Oh, you do, do you?”
“Women often say I’m handsome before they get to know me,” he said stiffly. “Do you think so?”
