Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
And, after that, I knew it was only a question of time before she encamped on the pavement at sunrise and stayed there. . . Can you imagine a more intolerable situation? Always having to peep round the curtain to see whether it was safe to venture into the street?
One day she forced her way into the house. It was the afternoon before Sir Appleton came to dine; and Will, who had been sleeping—on my suggestion—at his club, arrived in time to dress. Hardly had the door shut behind him when this girl (you would have thought she had more pride!) rang the bell and put her unvarying question. Mr. William Spenworth was not at home. Oh, but he was! She had just seen him come in! (An altercation with a servant on some one else’s door-step!) Norden behaved with perfect discretion, asking her to take a seat while he made enquiries. After a moment he returned to say—once more—that Mr. William was not at home. The girl, from his account, was in two minds whether to search the house, but at last she consented to go.
I am not a nervous woman, as you are aware, but I was thoroughly upset. A worse prelude to a momentous meeting could hardly be imagined. Will was quite unstrung by the persecution; and, though I never encourage
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