ht much peace and subsequent
happiness into my life, and therefore is writ in red letters in my book
of days. For the visits of Dick Dudley had latterly become more frequent
than I cared for, and much as I liked him, I began to wish that I
had remained in his estimation under the shadow of Diana's charming
personality, for so he had tolerated me until the fateful day on which I
had partaken of Betty's gray wad. That act of professional valor ignited
a spark of feeling for me in his breast, which, fostered by Hugh's
constant suggestion, sprang into something warmer than I could have
wished, and was fanned into flame on the day on which he found me paying
a visit of consolation to the small fat Thomas. Now, strangely enough,
that small fat person was nephew to Dick Dudley. How small the world is!
And the mother turned out to have been exactly the sort of mother I had
thought she must be. One of the nicest things about Dick Dudley was the
way he spoke of that sister, and we had long talks about her, until I
awoke to the fact that that sister and I must have been twins, so alike
were we; then I began to be afraid. For I couldn't tell him that there
was some one far away, for whom I was waiting from day to day. One
can hardly barricade one's self behind such an announcement. The
classification of women is incomplete. There are those who are engaged
and who care; there are those who are engaged and who don't care; there
are those who don't care and, who are not engaged; then there are those
who care and who are not engaged, so cannot say. It is not their
fault if, sometimes, they wound a passing lover. Mercifully there are
Pauline's in this world to relieve one of unsought affections, and I
liked Dick Dudley well enough, and not too much to be glad when I saw
him give ever such a small start when he walked into my drawing-room and
saw Pauline sitting there, clothed in cool green linen and looking her
very best. I had done her glorious hair on the top--that, I think is
the expression--and she sat in the window so that her hair shone like
burnished gold, and she was saying in a voice fraught with emotion,
"If I had my way, there should be no sorrow or suffering," which of all
sentiments was the most likely to appeal to Dick Dudley, for he is one
of those who look upon sorrow and suffering as bad management on the
part of some one, since the world is really such an awfully jolly place,
if only people didn't make a muddle of their