Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
Ruth received him effusively; my nephew Culroyd took him to his heart; if he had proposed, he would have been accepted then and there. He had done too wonderfully in the war and, in my humble judgement, gave a promise of success in any career he might undertake.
Me he consulted to know whether the world would say that he had married Phyllida for her money. He was daunted, I could see, by the lavishness of the Hall: the size of the house, the number of servants, Phyllida’s four hunters—and so forth and so on. I told him that, in this respect of money and—in—this—respect—alone, he was not in fact contributing very much. He nodded, packed his bag and went off to make money—with an enterprise and a resolution that was too splendid. Did I ever tell you that I once detected him driving a motorcab? He has now formed a company and is doing very well indeed. It was quite romantic! I always knew that there were such men in England and I was proud to meet one.
He begged me not to enlighten Phyllida, as he wished to leave her entirely free. Which I thought a most proper attitude, not extravagantly common in the youth of the present day. In my efforts to help him I exposed myself to
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