Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
“romance.” . . Brackenbury and the whole family made the absurdest fuss—well, I won’t say that, because I liked young Butler; they made a great fuss. Even my nephew Culroyd, who’s in the Coldstream, was quite affable; “eating out of his hand” was Will’s phrase. So descriptive, I thought; Will has an extraordinary knack of hitting people off. . .
None of them seemed to think of the money side at all. Brackenbury was always improvident as a boy; but, until you’ve felt the pinch as Will and I have done, you don’t learn anything about values. Four thousand a year sounds very pleasant, but if it’s now only equal to two. . . And Phyllida has always lived up to anything she’s had. “I want it, therefore I must have it” has been her rule. Clothes, trinkets, little treats. . . She has four horses, eating their heads off, while my poor Will says he stands hat in hand before any one who’ll mount him. And her own little car. . . I know a brick wall when I see one; it was no use asking Phyllida whether she thought she could afford a husband as well as everything else. And a family; one has to look ahead. . . Colonel Butler wouldn’t be earning anything for years.
He told me so. I liked him more and more, because he was so simple and straightforward.
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