WHAT THEY TALKED ABOUT
of things at all,' persisted Edward. 'How can they? They don't know anything; they can't do anything—except play the piano, and nobody would want to talk about that; and they don't care about anything—anything sensible, I mean. So what do they talk about?'
'I asked Martha once,' put in Harold; 'and she said, "Never you mind; young ladies has lots of things to talk about that young gentlemen can't understand."'
'I don't believe it,' Edward growled.
'Well, that's what she said, anyway,' rejoined Harold indifferently. The subject did not seem to him of first-class importance, and it was hindering the circulation of the ginger-beer.
We heard the click of the front-gate. Through a gap in the hedge we could see the party setting off down the road. Selina was in the middle; a Vicarage girl had her by either arm; their heads were together, as Edward had described; and the clack of their tongues came down the breeze like the busy pipe of starlings on a bright March morning.
'What do they talk about, Charlotte?' I
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