The Later Life

and Marianne we

o fond of you? Then we could have seen: we might have thought of something. As it was, Mamma was so startled by that unexpected visit.... Poor Aunt Constance, she isn't happy! How sad that you and she aren't happier together! Oh, I could cry about it at times: it seems such a shame!... A man and woman married ... and then ... and then what I so often see!... I oughtn't to have said what I did before dinner, it was stupid of me; but I may speak now, mayn't I?... Oh, I sha'n't marry, I won't marry!... To be married like Otto and Frances, like Emilie and Van Raven: I think it dreadful. Or like you and Auntie: I sh

me one comes along who

n't, couldn't do.... Otto is fonder of Louise than of his wife; and lately Emilie and Henri are inseparable.... In our family there has always been that affection between brother and sister. But it is too strong, far too strong. I

d like to see Aunt Constance and me happy, so I should

be, Uncle; no, th

an you

l it, I fe

a bet on it," he

a pained smile, "I won't b

n to hurt you

ow th

melancholy, at your a

e. That's

d! What

laug

re young!

ways y

ays. But

ung u

le.... A woman ge

I am still young, we shal

laug

o, you're older. But a

Do you know what I have been longing for

N

otor

a laugh like lit

otor

tearing and tearing over fields an

becoming

making me

The mask and goggles against th

ear and fly along, faster an

been in a mo

a friend's car. There's n

tinkled

re most certai

so yo

ung U

me uncle, Marianne:

nkling

I to call

you like.

nki

no.

you Henri ... or

difficult. Bet

nkling

ell.... But am I

y j

so funny ... b

ou can't always bo

ve to: I'

people are alwa

land would b

desert i

motor-

st you

er little bells tinkled

perfec

he air is s

iann

Uncl

y little friend.... Not a niece.

e friend?..

hat's al

People say it's dangerous. Is it, Uncl

you frightened

not fri

take

't min

be home in

y with me, for staying ou

.. no

you're still

'm not

ad! I should like to give you

kettles cost a

No, I don't m

e we

ng th

for seein

ight, M

; she went in. He trotted

ou been, Mariann

dinner at Aun

s about you,"

that Constance ha

ought y

nc

in the glass, as though to read her

eak, too weak.... Oh, if only they had never made it up, Papa and ... he!... Oh dear! I sh

still shedding its dying rays around her, but with a rising agony; and she remained like t

f the novel

nt to vo