Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
the inheritance for himself. . . I wonder if he’d be able to resist.”
“Temptation only seems strong to those who do not wish to withstand it,” I said.
Our arrival at the Hall was hardly auspicious, as my head-ache had been growing so steadily worse that I had to ask my sister-in-law Ruth to let me lie down if there was to be any question of my driving on to Rugely. And, though I felt better after a cup of tea, the pain returned when I was left for a moment with Phyllida. I sought an opportunity for my little speech. Phyllida. . . It would be absurd to feel resentment against a mere child whose nerves were obviously unstrung, but I wondered then and I wonder now what my dear mother would have said if I had spoken, looked, behaved in such a way to any older woman. When she had slammed her way out of the room, I sank into a chair, trembling. You know whether I am a limp, nervous woman; when Ruth came in to ask—without a spice of welcome—whether we would not stay to dinner, I was too much upset to speak; I just nodded. . . If I had been stronger, I would not have remained another moment in the house; but Will had disappeared, and I was unequal to returning alone.
Brackenbury had the consideration to ask if
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