Yet of course I am
sad about him, because he is a good, kind man, and I know his wife
will be very very unhappy when she hears--And it means he will die,
for certain. He must risk his life to--to--regain his position, and
he will be shot before Verdun in one of those dreadful assaults."
Then she told Vivie where she might find rooms, where at any rate
she could use her name as a reference. Also: "Stay away at present
and look after your mother. When she is quite comfortably settled,
come back and work with me--here--it is at any rate the only way in
which you can see and help your countrymen."
One day in November when their notice at the hotel was nearly
expired, Vivie proposed an expedition to her mother. They would walk
slowly--because Mrs. Warren now got easily out of breath--up to the
Jardin Bontanique; Vivie would leave her there in the Palm House. It
was warm; it was little frequented; there were seats and the
Belgians in charge knew Mrs. Warren of old time. Vivie would then go
on along the inner Boulevards by tram and look at some rooms
recommended by Minna von Stachelberg in the Quartier St. Gilles.
Mrs. Warren did as she was told. Vivie left her seated in one of the
long series of glass houses overlooking Brussels from a terrace,
wherein are assembled many glories of the tropics: palms, dracaenas,
yuccas, aloes, tree-ferns, cycads, screw-pines, and bananas:
promising to be back in an hour's time.
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