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When you’re with… whoever it is you love… then you’re happy… nearly always… at first.’
    ‘Then it is worth it?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘“There are moments in life worth purchasing with worlds”. Do you believe that?’
    ‘Yes, I suppose I do believe something like that. And you don’t, Maria, you see, you don’t believe anything like that at all. Doesn’t it make you want to believe it, that I do?’
    Maria did not answer.
    ‘That’s what worries me. That’s what makes me wonder whether you’ll ever be happy. That’s what makes me wonder whether you’ll ever get married.’
    ‘Explain the train of thought,’ said Maria, ‘which leads from love, to happiness, and then to marriage.’
    ‘Cynicism doesn’t suit you, Maria. Don’t be cynical.’
    ‘It’s you who are cynical. Surely, when so many marriages end in ugliness or unhappiness, it would be cynical to believe that they were ever founded on love. That would be to admit that love has no power to hold people together. Far better to say that there never was any love, and that when a marriage ends, it is simply an economic contract that has been broken.’
    ‘One day,’ said Sarah, ‘you will unsay all that. One day, when you are married, you will look back on today and think what a foolish girl you were to say all these things.’
    Maria did not answer.
    ‘You have such a loving nature, Maria, that’s what amazes me. You love to love people, don’t you?’
    ‘Of course. But I know so few lovable people.’
    ‘Your standards are too high.’
    ‘It’s not standards. I can’t help it when I don’t understand people.’
    ‘Fall in love, Maria.’
    Maria laughed, or cried, I forget which. Sarah took Maria in her arms and they sat, very quiet, for only a few seconds.
    ‘No. Don’t fall in love. I don’t want you ever to love anyone but me. I want you, all to myself.’
    *
    Unfortunately for Sarah, for both of them in fact, and surprisingly, too, Maria did not heed this advice, the most heartfelt she had ever been given. Not that she instantly fell in love, strictly speaking, but she had a try. The man in question was called Nigel. He was a friend of Ronny’s.
    It was at about this time that Ronny got into the habit of proposing marriage to her, and so it must also have been at about this time that she got into the habit of refusing him. These proposals were never especially dramatic, that was something to be thankful for, they simply arose in the normal course of conversation. Ronny never went down on his knees, for instance, because he had a keen sense of his own dignity, and his proposals were always made in a public place, for Maria never went to his room, and always found excuses for not inviting him to hers. Nevertheless he seemed to mean it, and Maria certainly meant it when she refused him. But I love you, he would protest. But I don’t love you, she would reply. Never mind, he would say, love’s not important, it’s respect that matters. But I don’t respect you, she would say. Respect’s not the be all and end all, he would say, just as long as we feel comfortable together. But I don’t feel comfortable with you, she would say. Maria always stuck to her guns, credit where credit’s due. And indeed she was only telling the truth, for she did not feel comfortable with Ronny, not comfortable at all, especially when he put his face very close to hers, and she could see the pimples and blackheads, and when he put his arm along the back of the seat upon which they were both sitting, and she could smell the sweat under his arms. And Ronny was not the worst, not by any means the worst.
    In some respects, pretty salient ones by and large, she preferred Nigel to Ronny. For one thing he was not devoted to her. This meant that it was possible, sometimes, to have a sensible conversation with him. Maria considered conversation to be an overrated pastime, but occasionally she craved it, simply as a change from all the other overrated