In the women it belongs essentially to the present; for there is no time like the present for love and other things.
"They call me," she had said to Jack Meredith, in her soft, mumbled English, a fortnight earlier, "they call me Marie." The children he had named after his own phantasy, and when she had once seen him with them there was a notable change in her manner.

Her eyes rested on him with a sort of wondering attention, and when she cooked his meals or touched anything that was his there was something in her attitude that denoted a special care.
Joseph called her "Missis," with a sort of friendliness in his voice, which never rose to badinage nor descended to familiarity.
"Seems to me, missis," he said, on the third evening after the arrival of the advance column, "that the guv'nor takes uncommon kindly to them little 'uns of yours." They were washing up together after dinner in that part of the garden which was used for a scullery, and Joseph was enjoying a post-prandial pipe.
"Yes," she said simply, following the direction of Joseph's glance.

Jack Meredith was engaged in teaching Epaminondas the intellectual game of bowls with a rounded pebble and a beer-bottle.

Nestorius, whose person seemed more distended than usual, stood gravely by, engaged in dental endeavours on a cork, while Xantippe joined noisily in the game.

Their lack of dress was essentially native to the country, while their mother affected a simple European style of costume.
"And," added Joseph, on politeness bent, "it don't surprise me.