Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
know new people.) When I returned from Menton, I did drop a little hint and suggest that, as the war was now over, she ought to revise some of her war friendships. Quite kindly and gradually, you understand; I know that with some of the really estimable women who sat on committees with me. . . “Is it true kindness?,” I asked myself. “They lead their lives, you lead yours; the war brought you together, but you’ve nothing else in common. . .” After that breath of fresh air at Menton, I was honestly truly aghast to find what London had become without one’s noticing it. I sought an opportunity of speaking to the princess about it: I felt some one ought to make a little stand. I don’t count, because I’m not in a position to entertain; but I did resolve to confine my little party simply to the old friends. . .
I invited Spenworth. . . You look surprised; but, if you will think for a moment. . . Arthur’s brother. It was notorious that I had for years disapproved of his whole way of life, but the family had to shew a united front. His very recent divorce, which—between ourselves—I think was forgiven far too quickly; goodness me, I hope I am not a bigot and I would assuredly persecute no one, but “whom God hath joined together”. . . I invited him chiefly
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