He read a long debate with the most amiable readiness and then explained it in his most lucid manner, while Meg tried to look deeply interested, to ask intelligent questions, and keep her thoughts from wandering from the state of the nation to the state of her bonnet. In her secret soul, however, she decided that politics were as bad as mathematics, and that the mission of politicians seemed to be calling each other names, but she kept these feminine ideas to herself, and when John paused, shook her head and said with what she thought diplomatic ambiguity, “Well, I really don’t see what we are coming to.”
As bad as mathematics? Oh, we’re on.
The more I read, the less I understand the love for this book. So much stuff is about finding happiness in marriage and being like a doormat to ease the lives of others around you. It fills me with rage.
Ninety percent done, according to kobo. Will likely finish today and then the complaints will cease.