Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
had dragged the estimate out of me by main force.
The work has recently been completed. There was the usual letter to ask if we were satisfied, and Arthur wrote out a cheque. It was returned. Mr. Surdan had asked to have the account sent to him. . . I was beside myself with anger at such a liberty. . .
I tell this against myself, because, having gone to curse, I stayed to pray, as it were. Mrs. Surdan wouldn’t let me speak.
“Hilda is our only child, as Mr. Will is yours,” she said. “If anything had happened to her, you can imagine what we should have thought. Is it altogether kind to say that we must not thank you for your devotion to our little girl?”
There you have the woman—clever, direct, going straight to my weak place. . .
What could one say? . . .
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