Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
grateful if he would tell me, from his very wide experience, what he considered most hopeful. He promised to let me know; and, a few days later, when I was dining with him, he asked whether I expected Will home any time soon on leave, as he always had a certain number of openings in his own various businesses. This from the man who never did anything for anybody unless he expected a rich return, the man who used people but never allowed any one to use him. . . I had asked for nothing; in my haste I had told Arthur that we could look to him for nothing. And if you knew the long agony of anxiety that I have endured. . . I may say, ever since we took Will away from Eton. I have seen my darling home in Mount Street threatened. . . The war was a god-send: something to keep him occupied, a little pocket-money; and, so long as he was not in danger, I prayed for it to go on. . .
“My dear Sir Adolphus,” I said, “the first time he comes home you shall meet him.”
That was in October. Suddenly, lo and behold! the armistice was upon us, and the whole world was looking out for jobs. I laboured and strove to bring Will home; and, the moment he arrived, I invited Sir Adolphus to dine. He telegraphed that he was at Rock Hill, but could we not spend a few days with
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