n to a lot of 'em--but they don't marry
anything as beautiful as you, Blanche,' he used to say. 'And you stick
up for yourself, Blanche,' he used to say. 'I'll stand by you,' he
said. He was a straight 'un, my husband was. They left me alone until
he died. And then they began--I mean his folks. And when Bobbie was
born it got worse. Only I must say even then Mr. Wrissell never turned
a hair. Everybody seemed to make out that I ought to be very grateful
to them, and I ought to think myself very lucky. Me--a peeress of the
realm! They wanted me to change. But how could I change? I was Blanche
Wilmot--on the road for ten years--never got a show in London--and
Blanche Wilmot I shall ever be--peeress or no peeress! It was no joke
being Lord Woldo's wife, I can tell you, and it's still less of a joke
being Lord Woldo's mother! You imagine it. It's worse than carrying
about a china vase all the time on a slippery floor! Am I any happier
now than I was before I married? Well, I _am_! There's more worry in
one way, but there's less in another. And of course I've got Bobbie!
But it isn't all beer and skittles, and I let 'em know it, too. I
can't do what I like! And I'm just a sort of exile, you know. I used
to enjoy being on the stage and showing myself off. A hard life,
but one does enjoy it. And one gets used to it. One gets to need
it. Sometimes I feel I'd give anything to be able to go on the stage
again--Oh--oh--!"

She sneezed; then took breath.

"Shall I put some more coal on the fire?" Edward Henry suggested.

"Perhaps I'd better ring," she hesitated.

"No, I'll do it."

He put coal on the fire.

"And if you'd feel easier with that flannel round your head, please do
put it on again."

"Well," she said, "I will. My mother used to say there was naught like
red flannel for a cold."

With an actress's skill she arranged the flannel, and from its
encircling folds her face emerged bewitching--and she knew it. Her
complexion had suffered in ten years of the road, but its extreme
beauty could not yet be denied. And Edward Henry thought:

"All the _really_ pretty girls come from the Midlands!"

"Here I am rambling on," she said. "I always was a rare rambler. What
do you want me to do?"

"Exert your influence," he replied. "Don't you think it's rather hard
on Rose Euclid--treating her like this? Of course people say all sorts
of things about Rose Euclid--"

"I won't hear a word against Rose Euclid," cried Lady Woldo