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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
133
That
second
evening
was
worse
a
great
deal
than
the
first.
We
had
said
all
we
ever
meant
to
say
to
each
other,
and
had
lauded
all
our
relations
with
such
hearty
goodwill
that
there
was
nothing
whatever
to
add.
I
sat
listening
to
the
slow
ticking
of
the
clock
and
asking
questions
about
things
I
did
not
in
the
least
want
to
know,
such
as
the
daily
work
and
rations
and
pay
of
the
soldiers
in
his
regiment,
and
presently--we
having
dined
at
the
early
hour
usual
in
the
country--the
clock
struck
eight.
Could
I
go
to
bed
at
eight?
No,
I
had
not
the
courage,
and
no
excuse
ready.
More
slow
ticking,
and
more
questions
and
answers
about
rations
and
pipeclay.
What
a
clock!
For
utter
laziness
and
dull
deliberation
there
surely
never
was
its
equal--it
took
longer
to
get
to
the
half-hour
than
any
clock
I
ever
met,
but
it
did
get
there
at
last
and
struck
it.
Could
I
go?
Could
I?
No,
still
no
excuse
ready.
We
drifted
from
pipeclay
to
a
discussion
on
bicycling
for
women--a
dreary
subject.
Was
it
becoming?
Was
it
good
for
them?
Was
it
ladylike?
Ought
they
to
wear
skirts
or--?
In
Paris
they
all
wore--.
Our
bringing-up
here
is
so
excellent
that
if
we
tried
we
could
not
induce
ourselves
to
speak
of
any
forked
garments
to
a
young
man,
so
we
make
ourselves
understood,
when
we
desire
to
insinuate
such
things,
by
an
expressive
pause
and
a
modest
downward
flicker
of
the
eyelids.
The
clock
struck
nine.
Nothing
should
keep
me
longer.
I
sprang
to
my
feet
and
said
I
was
exhausted
beyond
measure
by
the
sharp
air
driving,
and
that
whenever
I
had
spent
an
afternoon
out,
it
was
my
habit
to
go
to
bed
half
an
hour
earlier
than
other
evenings.
Again
he
looked
surprised,
but
rather
less
so
than
the
night
before,
and
he
was,
I
think,
beginning
to
get
used
to
me.
I
retired,
firmly
determined
not
to
face
another
such
day
and
to
be
very
ill
in
the
morning
and
quite
unable
to
rise,
he
having
casually
remarked
that
the
next
one
was
an
off
day;
and
I
would
remain
in
bed,
that
last
refuge
of
the
wretched,
as
long
as
he
remained
here.
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