Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
is useless to compete with those who think in pounds when we are forced to think in pennies.”
“I should like Hilda to enjoy herself,” said Mrs. Surdan. “If some one entertained on her behalf. . . I should like her to be given a ball, for instance. . . But, of course, it wouldn’t be fair to ask you.”
“It wouldn’t be fair on Hilda,” I said.
“May Hilda’s parents not judge of that?,” she asked.
A woman with a quite conquering smile. . . I wish you had met her.
It was really like a struggle not to be first through the door. . .
“If Hilda would care to come,” I said at length, “as my guest. . .”
“I can never thank you enough,” said Mrs. Surdan. “She is very tractable. Young, of course. . . And inexperienced about money. . .”
The best method of control, she thought, would be for me to suggest a sum which would cover all her expenses of every kind and for her husband to pay that into my account. . . “Hilda’s pocket-money,” we agreed to call it. . .
It seemed an admirable arrangement, but then Mrs. Surdan has the practical brain of a man in some ways. . .
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