BUDDENBROOKS
“God knows, Anna, what will happen. One isn’t young for ever—you are a sensible girl, you have never said anything about marriage and that sort of thing—”
“God forbid—that I should ask such a thing of you!”
“One is carried along—you see. If I live, I shall take over the business, and make a good match—you see, I am open with you at parting, Anna. I wish you every happiness, darling, darling little Anna. But don’t throw yourself away, do you hear? For you haven’t done that—with me—I swear it.”
It was warm in the shop. A moist scent of earth and flowers was in the air. Outside, the winter sun was hurrying to its repose, and a pure delicate sunset, like one painted on porcelain, beautified the sky across the river. People hurried past the window, their chins tucked into their turned-up collars; no one gave a glance into the corner of the little flower-shop, at the two who stood there saying their last farewells.
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