Explore "The Caravaners" by Elizabeth Von Arnim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Thus our caravaning came to an end.
I could hardly believe it when I thought how at that hour of the day before I was lying beneath the hop-poles of Frogs' Hole Farm with the greater part, as I supposed, of the tour before me; I could hardly believe that here we were again, Edelgard and I, _tête-à-tête_ in a railway carriage and with a future of, if I may coin a word, _tête-à-têteness_ stretching uninterruptedly ahead as far as imagination could be induced to look. And not only just ordinary _tête-à-têteness_, but with the complication of one of the _têtes_, so to speak, being rankly rebellious and unwifely. How long would it take, I wondered, glancing at her as she sat in the corner opposite me, to bring her back to the reason in which she used before we came to England to take delight?