"Some _use_? I
should think so!" said Rossiter (whether truly or not). And he
reproached himself that twenty years ago he had not trained and
developed her to help him in his work, to be a real companion in his
studies.
He was really fond of her through the winter of 1916. And so jovial
and lover-like, so boyish in his fun, so like the typical Tommy home
from the trenches. When he was overjoyed at the success of some
uncovered and peeped-at experiment, he would sing, "When _I_ get me
civvies on again, an' it's Home Sweet Home once more"; and ask for
the ideal cottage "with rowses round the door--And a nice warm
bottle in me nice warm bed, An' a nice soft pillow for me nice soft
'ead..." Mrs. Rossiter began to think there was a good side to the
War, after all. It made some men more conscious of their home
comforts and less exigent for intellectuality in their home
companions.
They went out very little into Society. Rossiter held that war-time
parties were scandalous. He poohpoohed the idea that immodest
dancing with frisky matrons or abandoned spinsters was necessary
to restore the shell-shocked nerves of temporary captains,
locally-ranked majors, or the recently-joined subaltern. He was far
too busy for twaddly tea-fights and carping at hard-worked generals
who were doing their best and a good best too. He and Linda did dine
occasionally with Honoria, but the latter felt she could not let
herself go about Vivie in the presence of Mrs.
Pages:
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443