Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
moment had him fitted out properly, while a maid dashed to Hay Hill to fetch his St. George. (As Arthur said, “We can lend you anything from the South African medal to the Victorian Order, but we don’t fly as high as Garters.”)
One or two tiny hitches like that, just enough to make me nervous. . . When the princess arrived, all was transformed: she was more than gracious, wanting to know why she never saw anything of me nowadays. . . Some people are quite wonderfully able to give you that sense of well-being. I presented Will. She said:
“But you’re not old enough to have a grown-up son!”
“I am old enough to be proud of it, ma’am,” I said.
I don’t think I am envious; but, when I saw the success of my little party, when I looked at Brackenbury, who has the money and does nothing with it, and at Ruth, who couldn’t do anything with it if she wanted to . . . just an over-grown school-girl. . . When I thought of Spenworth and the opportunities at Cheniston, I felt it was a little hard. . . They do come to me, gladly, graciously; and I am not in a position to entertain them. . .
After dinner we had music. . .
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