sses, oh, Lonely Man! in the most ra-vishing clothes! And she knocks
at the door of Martin's study in his writing hours, and walks bang in.
_And he doesn't turn her out_!

"That's Grizel. And if I tried a hundred years I couldn't describe her
better. We were at school together, and she is my most intimate friend,
next to Dorothea, but--

"I wish I were a generous, humble-minded person who _liked_ standing
aside, and seeing other people succeed where I have failed, and being
praised where I'm snubbed, and run after when I'm ignored, but I'm not,
and if you think I am, you'd better know once for all that you're
mistaken. There have been times this last week when I've _hated_
Grizel, and her works!

"Yesterday we went to a garden party, she, Martin, and I, and they
schemed to send me off with a snuffy old man, so that they could be
alone. I saw them look at each other, a quick, signalling look, which
meant, `_Get rid of her_!' and he was the first person who came along.
Poor, snuffy person, with a termagant on his hands! If you were sitting
here, face to face--I should be too proud to tell you this; even to
write it to Dorothea would hurt, but to a ghostly shape whom one has
never seen, and probably never shall see, it is a relief to blurt out
one's woes!

"Martin looks at Grizel with a look in his eyes which,--which is _not_
like a sorrowing widower! and when I see it I am filled with seventeen
contending emotions, like the heroines in the newspaper _feuilletons_.
Jealousy--hideous, aching jealousy, for Juliet, and the past, for myself
and the future; disillusionment, in the breaking of an ideal, which, if
impracticable, was still beautiful and sweet, the illusion of a lifelong
loyalty and devotion; also, and this is worst of all,--something
horribly approaching contempt! My love for Martin is as great as ever,
but he is no longer the hero, the strong, silent man who loved once and
for ever, and went through life waiting patiently for a reunion. He has
stepped down from his pedestal and become flesh and blood, and I--oh,
Lonely Man!--I am _trying_ to be glad, but it's a big, big effort! Self
looms so large; the self that _will_ intrude into every question. I
wanted him to be happy, _but in my own way_!

"I'm going to stop this minute. You'll be horrified at the length of
this budget, but it's your own fault. Give a woman an inch, and she'll
take an ell. Wade through it this time, and tell me what you thi