In the grainy light, Mary asked, “Did you know about us?”
“I … I wasn’t sure.” Meg turned to look into Mary’s eyes, “Did you know about me?”
“The story about Amy gave me hope. And when I kissed you, I felt it. Before then, did you know about me?”
“Since you told me, there wasn’t much mystery.”
Mary laughed. “I suppose not, although others would have told me I hadn’t met the right man yet. You didn’t. I noticed.”
“No, I knew what you’d meant, right enough. Who have you, I mean …”
“A few of the girls at school, but that was silliness. One woman.”
An awkward silence fell between them. Meg was dying to ask more about the “one woman,” but something in Mary’s terse reply closed the door.
“I don’t suppose you’re hungry at all? Only my mother’s larder is sitting down there, unmolested.”
“
