"It is droll," he said. “I made two fruit pies and now I have no one to eat them. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. He misstated her age and address; but you can’t get home on him for a thing like that. After a while he spoke again. ‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent.
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