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Updated: June 7, 2025
He had an interminable five or ten minutes in his vain search, and he was going to call out to her by name, when Burnamy saved him from the hopeless absurdity by elbowing his way to him with Miss. Triscoe on his arm. "Here she is, Mr.
March laughed for pleasure in her guess, and she pursued, "I suppose you didn't waste time looking if anybody had brought the last copy of 'Every Other Week'?" "Yes, I did; and I found the one you had left in your steamer chair for advertising purposes, probably." "Mr. Burnamy has another," she said. "I saw it sticking out of his pocket this morning." "Oh, yes.
I don't want you to ridicule me for my conscience any more, Basil; you're twice as bad as I ever was. Don't you think that a person can ever expiate an offence? I've often heard you say that if any one owned his fault, he put it from him, and it was the same as if it hadn't been; and hasn't Burnamy owned up over and over again? I'm astonished at you, dearest."
I want you to be my guests, and I'll see about the carriages." He turned to Burnamy: "Will you order them?" "Oh," said the young fellow, with a sort of dryness, "the portier will get them." "I don't understand why General Triscoe was so willing to accept. Surely, he can't like that man!" said Mrs. March to her husband in their own room. "Oh, I fancy that wouldn't be essential.
"We have a daughter living in Chicago," said Mrs. March, alluringly. But Miss Triscoe refused the bait, either because she had said all she meant, or because she had said all she would, about Chicago, which Mrs. March felt for the present to be one with Burnamy. She gave another of her leaps. "I don't see why people are so anxious to get it like Europe, at home.
They were so near in age, though they were ten years apart, that Rose stood much more in awe of Burnamy than of others much more his seniors.
But he let her see that he did not enjoy the chance which had thrown them again in such close relations with Burnamy, and he did pot hide his belief that the Marches were somehow to blame for it. This made it impossible for her to write at once to Mrs. March as she had promised; but she was determined that it should not make her unjust to Burnamy.
I feel very unhappy about him." "I don't. He's too much like me. He would have been quite capable of promising that poor woman to look up her son in Jersey City. When I think of that, I have no patience with Burnamy." "I am going to ask the landlord about him, now he's got rid of his highhotes," said Mrs. March.
March declared that for the present, at least, she wanted Europe quite to themselves; and she said that not even for the pleasure of seeing Burnamy and Miss Triscoe come into their box together world she have suffered an American trespass upon their exclusive possession of the Circus Renz.
I didn't think Agatha was looking very well; she looked unhappy; I don't believe she's heard, from Burnamy yet; I hadn't a chance to ask her. And there's something else that I'm afraid will fairly make you sick." "Oh, no; go on. I don't think anything can do that, after an afternoon of Kenby's confidences." "It's worse than Kenby," she said with a sigh.
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