‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. She creaked, groaned, and rattled; but that was only her way of yawning when she awoke. Their small talk continued. ‘All these soldiers,’ she complained, adding with a sweep of one arm at the major’s dress, ‘all of them in red as you. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. That is what marriage is to most young women: the ultimate escape from the family, from the unwritten laws that govern children. Sindlesham tried.
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