Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
have chosen, but one is foolish to expect too great nicety of language. . .
It was arranged that Sir Appleton should dine with us here to meet Will.
I did try to impress on my boy that this would be one of the most momentous days of his life. I wanted Sir Appleton to see him at his best. When you have no experience, no technical knowledge to offer, it is so important that character, personality, breeding. . . I am sure you understand what I mean. And I could never forget that, when the Jew man—Sir Adolf Erckmann or whatever he now calls himself—pretended to have an appointment ready and waiting, Will endangered his prospects by participating in some ridiculous game that caused our worthy host to take offence. One had not looked for such sensitiveness in that quarter; but, when a man is uncertain of himself and takes refuge in his dignity, high spirits and irresponsibility have no place. This time, I told Will, he must run no risks. And, after that, I hoped—and expected—to see my boy taking our friend by storm. . .
Do you know, it was as much as I could do to prevail on him to meet Sir Appleton at all! This menace was preying on his nerves; this pitiless hail of appealing letters from his “heart-broken Molly”. One day he came in looking
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