dy to look at life itself with frankness, and judge it by
standards of her own. The windows of the Carlton Club knew Sir Peter no
more. She led him everywhere. You might have seen them at the Abbey one
day; on another in the Temple Gardens or looking up at Dr. Johnson's
house, in Gough Square. Sir Peter gloomed in the doorways of shops while
she made leisurely purchases within. He pointed out the best pictures in
the National Gallery; and could tell her why they were the best. They
motored through England and France; Sir Peter absorbed in old
fortifications, Phyllis regardful of the babies tumbling through cottage
doorways. In London one often saw them walking in the park, her face
aglow with animation, her movements as free from constraint as a young
deer; her flow of conversation never failing. Sir Peter, keeping step,
regarded her, idolatrous. Unconsciously she showed him her soul, and
looking therein he found his eyes blurred with unexpected tears.

Soft but imperious Phyllis! The theater bored Sir Peter beyond
expression. But on First Nights you might be certain he would have a
box. Radiant Phyllis, in white silk, leaning forward eagerly to catch
every word, was tremulous with excitement at the end of the play. During
the drive homeward Sir Peter endeavored, artfully, to conceal that he
had slept through half an act.

You may be sure that mothers with eligible sons invited him to dine;
grumbling, but facing the inevitable, he accepted. His hawk's eyes
glowered at the young men: from Cambridge and Oxford, but he invited
them to his house. Coaxed by their mothers they called the first time,
and thereafter were with difficulty restrained. Phyllis was kind to
each, and interested in all; but Sir Peter observed with satisfaction
that she was most pleased when they came in pairs. He chuckled over his
magazine, under a reading-lamp, at the far end of the library many
times, while Phyllis entertained her admirers; but at times he scowled.
"Too fast, too fast, you young fool," he muttered to his white mustache.

They were thoroughly agreeable young men, and Phyllis enjoyed it all
hugely. She approached the consideration of the sex from a perfectly
fresh and candid point of view. Sir Peter had the benefit of her
impressions each morning with his egg and toast and tea. "The Times" had
long since been banished from breakfast.

One morning she was spiritless.

"Uncle Peter, I have something very, very important to tell you.