Then she joined her son, who was already waiting for
her--impatiently--in the garden.
Hugh Roughsedge had only just returned from a month's stay in London,
made necessary by those new Army examinations which his soul detested.
By dint of strenuous coaching he had come off moderately victorious, and
had now returned home for a week's extra leave before rejoining his
regiment. One of the first questions on his tongue, as his mother
instantly noticed, had been a question as to Miss Mallory. Was she still
at Beechcote? Had his mother seen anything of her?
Yes, she was still at Beechcote. Mrs. Roughsedge, however, had seen her
but seldom and slightly since her son's departure for London. If she had
made one or two observations from a distance, with respect to the young
lady, she withheld them. And like the discerning mother that she was, at
the very first opportunity she proposed a call at Beechcote.
On their way thither, this February afternoon, they talked in a
desultory way about some new War-Office reforms, which, as usual, the
entire Army believed to be merely intended--wilfully and
deliberately--for its destruction; about a recent gambling scandal in
the regiment, or the peculiarities of Hugh's commanding officer.
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