Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
has money. . . But I could never regard it as satisfactory.
The moment I could get a word alone with my sister-in-law, I asked her whether they had seen anything of Colonel Butler.
“Not since you arranged that meeting at your house,” Ruth told me, “but he is due here to-night.” She persists in speaking of people as though they were ships! The Hull strain coming out! “That is why I invited you all—Culroyd and Hilda are coming; and Spenworth and his wife—; I wanted you all to meet him. Or rather Phyllida did. She has been very mysterious, but there seems to be no doubt now. . .”
“They are going to be married?,” I interrupted.
“Nothing has been said about it— yet,” answered Ruth.
I know you will not misunderstand me, still less make mischief, if I tell you that I heaved a sigh of relief. Fond as I am of Phyllida, she would not have made a very suitable wife for Will, though it is essential for him to marry some one with a little money and I have felt lately that, if he could marry any one, it would put an end to this persecution from the girl who is trying to blackmail him. . . At the same time it seemed a little strange for Phyllida to
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