Comparative Strangers. Sara Craven

Conroy shrugged. ‘Darling, what does it matter? It just needs one of you to make the first move.’

      ‘The question’s academic, anyway,’ Amanda said. ‘Nigel’s been here already, and I sent him away.’

      ‘Are you out of your mind?’ her mother almost shrieked.

      ‘I don’t think so—not any more.’

      ‘But what in the world could you have quarrelled about so drastically?’ Mrs Conroy wailed. ‘You were so well-suited—so perfect for each other in every way. And Nigel adored you.’

      And flattered you, Amanda thought suddenly, but didn’t say it.

      She sat staring at the carpet while her mother continued her diatribe, naming Nigel’s manifold perfections and desirability as a son-in-law.

      She wished she could tell her the whole story, but it was impossible. The first thing her mother would want to know would be why she’d gone to Calthorpe in the first place. And that was unanswerable. One of the cornerstones of Mrs Conroy’s philosophy was that unmarried people did not sleep together. The permissive society had only served to strengthen this firmly held belief, although Amanda suspected with wry affection that, as far as her mother was concerned, sex, even for married people, was not a major priority.