March, and he showed an
intolerable resignation to the girl's absence.
"Yes," said March, taking the place Burnamy left at last, "that terrible
patience of youth!"
"Patience? Folly! Stupidity! They ought to be together every instant! Do
they suppose that life is full of such chances? Do they think that fate
has nothing to do but--"
She stopped for a fit climax, and he suggested, "Hang round and wait on
them?"
"Yes! It's their one chance in a life-time, probably."
"Then you've quite decided that they're in love?" He sank comfortably
back, and put up his weary legs on the chair's extension with the
conviction that love had no such joy as that to offer.
"I've decided that they're intensely interested in each other."
"Then what more can we ask of them? And why do you care what they do or
don't do with their chance? Why do you wish their love well, if it's
that? Is marriage such a very certain good?"
"It isn't all that it might be, but it's all that there is. What would
our lives have been without it?" she retorted.
"Oh, we should have got on. It's such a tremendous risk that we, ought to
go round begging people to think twice, to count a hundred, or a
nonillion, before they fall in love to the marrying-point.
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