And when I marry, I shall make it very clear to this person that sentimentality is not on the calendar. He will have to lump it or leave it. And if he should leave, I’ll stay a spinster and pin my hair back and volunteer weekends at the hospital. And I will love words for their own sake, like “hyacinth” and “Piccadilly” and “onyx.”. And I’ll have a good old dog, and think what I like, and be part of a different sort of family, with friends, you know? Ones who understand that things are only worth what you’re willing to give up for them.