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Updated: May 31, 2025
'No fresh news, dear Mrs. Sarratt, nothing whatever, he said at once, meeting her hungry eyes. 'And you? She shook her head. 'Don't worry. You'll get it soon. I've sent the motor back to Windermere for the evening papers. Meanwhile Marsworth found himself reduced to watching Cicely, and presently he found himself more angry and disgusted than he had ever yet been. How could she? How dared she?
And why shouldn't she herself marry? Nelly laughed. 'Never! She hates men. There was a silence a moment. And then Sarratt said, rather gravely 'I say, darling, if she's going to make you miserable while I am away, hadn't we better make some other arrangement? I thought of course she would be good to you, and look after you! Naturally any sister would, that was worth her salt!
You're stopping here? 'Yes said Mrs. Sarratt, distractedly, watching to see that the luggage was all right. 'Oh, George, do take care of that parcel! 'All right. But she had spoken too late. As her husband, having handed over two suit cases to Mrs. Weston's fourteen-year old boy, came towards her with a large brown paper parcel, the string of it slipped, Mrs.
'And you'll let Nelly talk about the war though it does bore you? She won't be able to help it poor child! Bridget supposed that now she too would have to talk about the war. He needn't be afraid, she added drily. She would look after Nelly. And she looked so masterful and vigorous as she said it, that Sarratt could only believe her.
And as they reached the two waiting motors, Nelly found her hand grasped by a comely elderly woman, in a uniform of grey and red. 'He was quite comfortable when we left him, Mrs. Sarratt. There's a wonderful difference, even since yesterday, in his mind. He's beginning to remember everything. He knows you're coming.
'Well, they'll settle that. The tone was sharp and off-hand. And the maid-servant, as she went downstairs, decided for the twentieth time that afternoon, that she didn't like Miss Cookson, and she hoped her sister, Mrs. Sarratt, would be nicer. Miss Cookson had been poking her nose into everything that afternoon, fiddling with the rooms and furniture, and interfering with Mrs. Weston. As if Mrs.
The beauty and luxury of the cottage the mere tea-table with all its perfect appointments of fine silver and china, the multitude of cakes, the hot-house fruit, the well-trained butler all the signs of wealth that to Nelly were rather intimidating, and to Sarratt in war-time incongruous and repellent, were to Bridget the satisfaction of so many starved desires.
She very seldom talked of him now, or of the past. She kept up correspondence with half a dozen men of his company the brother officer to whom Sarratt had given his last letter a sergeant, and three or four privates, who had written to her about him. She had made friends with them all, especially with the young lieutenant.
She reminded him of the French peasant women in whose farms he often lodged behind the lines. She meanwhile was scrutinising him the badge on his cap, and the two buttons on his khaki sleeve. 'I think I know who you are, she said, with a sudden smile. 'Aren't you Mr. and Mrs. Sarratt? Sir William Farrell told me about you. Then she turned to the boy 'Go on, Jim. I'll come soon.
The thought of their dingy Manchester rooms, of the ceaseless care and economy that would be necessary for their joint ménage when Sarratt was gone, filled her with disgust. Their poverty was wholly unnecessary it was Nelly's silly fault.
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