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Updated: May 7, 2025
She slipped off her jacket after they started, and gave it to Kenby, but she let General Triscoe hold her umbrella over her, while he limped beside her. She seemed to March, as he followed with Rose, to be playing the two men off against each other, with an ease which he wished his wife could be there to see, and to judge aright.
It was not till the soldiers began returning from the manoeuvres, dusty-footed, and in white canvas overalls drawn over their trousers to save them, that he went back to Mrs. March and Miss Triscoe at the Swan.
March had thought something like this himself, but to have it put by General Triscoe made it offensive. "I don't know. Isn't it rather quarrelling with the course of human events to oppose accomplished facts? The unifications were bound to be, just as the separations before them were. And so far they have made for peace, in Europe at least, and peace is civilization.
It seemed to be modern enough for the cheerful young officer, and they were suddenly revolving with the rest. . . A tide of long-forgotten girlhood welled up in her heart, and she laughed as she floated off on it past the astonished eyes of Miss Triscoe and Burnamy.
Over all breathed the keen pure air of the hills, with a sentiment of changeless eld, which charmed March, back to his boyhood, where he lost the sense of his wife's presence, and answered her vaguely. She talked contentedly on in the monologue to which the wives of absent-minded men learn to resign themselves. They were both roused from their vagary by the voice of General Triscoe.
March thought him handsome in his way, and required Miss Triscoe to admire him.
"Well, people have been known to sleep in a chair. I shall manage somehow." "You might offer to go in with the general," March suggested, and the men apparently thought this was a joke. Mrs. March did not laugh in her feminine worry about ways and means. "Where is Miss Triscoe?" she asked. "We haven't seen them." "Didn't Mrs. Adding tell you?
His voice trembled; and his eyes softened; then they flashed up, and March heard him add, in a tone that astonished him less when he looked round and saw General Triscoe advancing toward them, "I don't know what it is always makes me want to kick that man." The general lifted his hat to their group, and hoped that Mrs. Eltwin was well, and Major Eltwin better.
March prompted, at a certain inconclusiveness in her tone rather than her words. "Well, you can see that it, isn't ideal." "Why isn't it ideal? I suppose you think that the marriage of Burnamy and Agatha Triscoe will be ideal, with their ignorances and inexperiences and illusions." "Yes! It's the illusions: no marriage can be perfect without them, and at their age the Kenbys can't have them."
"Well, you needn't flatter yourself that you'll find him in Ansbach. I'm sure I don't know where he is." "You might write to Miss Triscoe and ask." "I think I shall wait for Miss Triscoe to write to me," she said, with dignity. "Yes, she certainly owes you that much, after all your suffering for her. I've asked the banker in Nuremberg to forward our letters to the poste restante in Ansbach.
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