"
"Yes! It's the illusions: no marriage can be perfect without them, and at
their age the Kenbys can't have them."
"Kenby is a solid mass of illusion. And I believe that people can go and
get as many new illusions as they want, whenever they've lost their old
ones."
"Yes, but the new illusions won't wear so well; and in marriage you want
illusions that will last. No; you needn't talk to me. It's all very well,
but it isn't ideal."
March laughed. "Ideal! What is ideal?"
"Going home!" she said with such passion that he had not the heart to
point out that they were merely returning to their old duties, cares and
pains, with the worn-out illusion that these would be altogether
different when they took them up again.
LXXIII.
In fulfilment of another ideal Mrs. March took straightway to her berth
when she got on board the Cupania, and to her husband's admiration she
remained there till the day before they reached New York. Her theory was
that the complete rest would do more than anything else to calm her
shaken nerves; and she did not admit into her calculations the chances of
adverse weather which March would not suggest as probable in the last
week in September. The event justified her unconscious faith.
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