’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. " "I hadn't thought of that. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded.
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