TheyallcametothetrainwhentheMarchesstarteduptoLondon，andstoodwavingtothemastheypulledoutofthestation。“Well，Ican’tseebutthat’sallright。”hesaidashesankbackinhisseatwithasighofrelief。“Ineversupposedweshouldgetoutoftheirmarriagehalfsowell，andIdon’tfeelthatyouquitemadethematcheither，mydear。”
ShewasforcedtoagreewithhimthattheKenbysseemedhappytogether，andthattherewasnothingtofearforRoseintheirhappiness。HewouldbeastenderlycaredforbyKenbyashecouldhavebeenbyhismother，andfarmorejudiciously。Sheownedthatshehadtrembledforhimtillshehadseenthemalltogether；andnowsheshouldnevertrembleagain。
“Well？”Marchprompted，atacertaininconclusivenessinhertoneratherthanherwords。
“Well，youcanseethatit，isn’tideal。”
“Whyisn’titideal？IsupposeyouthinkthatthemarriageofBurnamyandAgathaTriscoewillbeideal，withtheirignorancesandinexperiencesandillusions。”