Of course, Mr Jonathan Strange does not appear to have noticed his wife's prolonged absence. Nor has he noticed the re-appearance of natural light, though that is more easily explained by the continuance of the darkness around him. When he does encounter his long-missing wife, it is after she has been helped to her room by Mr Carstone, considerably later in the evening.
'Why, there you are, my love,' he says absently, crossing to the writing-table at the window to examine some notes and papers left scattered on its surface, and hardly even glancing at her.
[ah, but I am always late...sorry, again and again...XD oops.]
The smile is wasted, unfortunately, as Strange's gaze is set upon his papers; he frowns, perplexed, at one sheet covered in his characteristic haphazard scrawl, and then slowly looks up, to frown in even deeper perplexment at the window just before him, and the moonlit scene outside.
'My love,' he says, 'tell me, have you noticed anything -- different, to-night?'
'Well,' he begins, almost apologetic in tone, 'for one thing, do you see that tree - I believe it is a poplar, but I cannot be quite certain - that one just there, down the path? ...it is visible, is it not? Surely there was not light enough before to view such a very distant tree as that poplar?'
'Well,' she begins after a moment's hesitation. 'As I-- walked, today, as I moved farther from where you were, I noticed that the darkness seemed to be... dissipating.'
Of course, Mr Jonathan Strange does not appear to have noticed his wife's prolonged absence. Nor has he noticed the re-appearance of natural light, though that is more easily explained by the continuance of the darkness around him. When he does encounter his long-missing wife, it is after she has been helped to her room by Mr Carstone, considerably later in the evening.
'Why, there you are, my love,' he says absently, crossing to the writing-table at the window to examine some notes and papers left scattered on its surface, and hardly even glancing at her.
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"My dear," she replies weakly, straightening and mustering a very convincing smile.
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The smile is wasted, unfortunately, as Strange's gaze is set upon his papers; he frowns, perplexed, at one sheet covered in his characteristic haphazard scrawl, and then slowly looks up, to frown in even deeper perplexment at the window just before him, and the moonlit scene outside.
'My love,' he says, 'tell me, have you noticed anything -- different, to-night?'
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