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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
136
"It
is,"
he
assented,
as
he
heard
the
rain
beating
against
the
windows.
"And
have
I
invited
any
one
here?"
"No,
but
there
were
all
those
officers."
"They
have
nothing
whatever
to
do
with
it."
"They
helped
you
through
one
fortnight."
"They
didn't.
It
was
a
fortnight
of
horror."
"Well.
Go
on."
"You
said
I
would
be
punished
by
being
dull.
Have
I
been
dull?"
"My
dear,
as
though
if
you
had
been
you
would
ever
confess
it."
"That's
true.
But
as
a
matter
of
fact
let
me
tell
you
that
I
never
spent
a
happier
summer."
He
merely
looked
at
me
out
of
the
corners
of
his
eyes.
"If
I
remember
rightly,"
he
said,
after
a
pause,
"your
chief
reason
for
wishing
to
be
solitary
was
that
your
soul
might
have
time
to
grow.
May
I
ask
if
it
did?"
"Not
a
bit."
He
laughed,
and,
getting
up,
came
and
stood
by
my
side
before
the
fire.
"At
least
you
are
honest,"
he
said,
drawing
my
hand
through
his
arm.
"It
is
an
estimable
virtue."
"And
strangely
rare
in
woman."
"Now
leave
woman
alone.
I
have
discovered
you
know
nothing
really
of
her
at
all.
But
I
know
all
about
her."
"You
do?
My
dear,
one
woman
can
never
judge
the
others."
"An
exploded
tradition,
dear
Sage."
"Her
opinions
are
necessarily
biassed."
"Venerable
nonsense,
dear
Sage."
"Because
women
are
each
other's
natural
enemies."
"Obsolete
jargon,
dear
Sage."
"Well,
what
do
you
make
of
her?"
"Why,
that
she's
a
DEAR,
and
that
you
ought
to
be
very
happy
and
thankful
to
have
got
one
of
her
always
with
you."
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