THE RETURN OF THE SOLDIER
Margaret : Not since then—no, sir. Not till I got his telegram a week ago.
Kitty : Did you answer it?
Margaret: Yes, I answered it. It wouldn’t have been in flesh and blood not to.
Kitty : What did you say?
[Jenny makes a movement of protest.
Oh, haven’t I a right to know? Aren’t I his wife . . . even if he has forgotten me? I must know everything . . . if I’m to help him.
Margaret : It’s all right; I just said I was sorry he was ill and hoped he’d soon be better. I told him I’d moved . . . I told him where I was living. Oh, I know I shouldn’t have . . . I know. I knew I oughtn’t. All the way down to the post office I told myself I wouldn’t, that it wasn’t right, and then, when I got the pen in my hand, something just seemed to come over me. Chris was ill and he didn’t know, and perhaps he wanted to write.
Jenny : Did you say that you were married?
Margaret : No.
Kitty : Ah!
Margaret : Oh, don’t be angry. It wasn’t what you think. I wanted to tell him, but it isn’t a thing you can put into a telegram . . . they’re cold things. I didn’t mean to hide it from him, but he was ill and I couldn’t just put it plump out like that.
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