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"I could say it too," offered Julian. "To love, cherish, and to obey. I don't mind having it in the vows."
"But I don't want to say it at all," insisted Hilary, becoming increasingly irritated.
Thinking of something David had once said - that the shrillness of feminism resulted from a consciousness of having lost the argument from the start - she was struck afresh by the absurdity of wrangling over the fine points of the 1662 prayer book when she had so easily conceded the main point: they were getting married. The announcement had gone into the Times; there was no backing out now.
Julian took up her hand and kissed it in unaffected apology. There was a silence. He let it fall again and gazed out the window; his profile made a perfect silhouette against the sunny garden.
"With my body," he said quietly, as though rehearsing his part, "I thee worship..."
To hell with it, thought Hilary, I want to marry him.