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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
126
It
would
be
difficult
to
count
the
number
of
them
that
have
answered
the
Man
of
Wrath's
advertisements
for
book-
keepers
and
secretaries--always
vainly,
for
even
if
they
were
fit
for
the
work,
no
single
person
possesses
enough
tact
to
cope
successfully
with
the
peculiarities
of
such
a
situation.
I
hear
that
some
English
people
of
a
hopeful
disposition
indulge
in
ladies
as
servants;
the
cases
are
parallel,
and
the
tact
required
to
meet
both
superhuman.
Of
all
the
officers
here
the
only
ones
with
whom
I
can
find
plenty
to
talk
about
are
the
generals.
On
what
subject
under
heaven
could
one
talk
to
a
lieutenant?
I
cannot
discuss
the
agility
of
ballet-dancers
or
the
merits
of
jockeys
with
him,
because
these
things
are
as
dust
and
ashes
to
me;
and
when
forced
for
a
few
moments
by
my
duties
as
hostess
to
come
within
range
of
his
conversation
I
feel
chilly
and
grown
old.
In
the
early
spring
of
this
year,
in
those
wonderful
days
of
hope
when
nature
is
in
a
state
of
suppressed
excitement,
and
when
any
day
the
yearly
recurring
miracle
may
happen
of
a
few
hours'
warm
rain
changing
the
whole
world,
we
got
news
that
a
lieutenant
and
two
men
with
their
horses
were
imminent,
and
would
be
quartered
here
for
three
nights
while
some
occult
military
evolutions
were
going
on
a
few
miles
off.
It
was
specially
inopportune,
because
the
Man
of
Wrath
would
not
be
here,
but
he
comforted
me
as
I
bade
him
good-bye,
my
face
no
doubt
very
blank,
by
the
assurance
that
the
lieutenant
would
be
away
all
day,
and
so
worn
out
when
he
got
back
in
the
evening
that
he
probably
would
not
appear
at
all.
But
I
never
met
a
more
wide-awake
young
man.
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