Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
ing. We have always been quite pitiably restricted in our entertaining, but this was not the moment to grudge a few extra pounds well laid-out. . . And it does not require a mathematician to prove that Arthur could have given me more money if he had given less in other directions. Of course, I did not hint such a thing; my dear, peace, forgiveness, forgetfulness was what I wanted. . . And it was not necessary; Arthur assented to everything.
First of all I made certain of the princess. What she can see in a dull old woman like me you must ask her; but she has been a true and loving friend for perhaps more years than either of us now cares to recall; and, if humble affection and gratitude matter to her, she knows that they are hers whenever she does me the honour of visiting my house. . . She likes coming, I know; in me, she has been gracious enough to say, she finds an attitude of mind, a point of view which is disappearing only too fast; in a sense—I am sure she would be the first to excuse my presumption—we were brought up in the same school.
There was no difficulty about securing my brother. It is a pose with Brackenbury to pretend that he hates what he calls “orders-and-decorations” parties, but my sister-in-law is not
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