Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
sundry, but the idea has not occurred to them yet. . .
Homely, unspoiled people I thought them. . . The mother very capable, but endearing. . . Immensely rich—I believe it is shipping, but the history books are silent. . . Have you observed a significant change in the biographies of the present day? We are always plunged into the heart of things, as it were: “called to the bar in seventy-something, undersecretary for this or that, entered the cabinet as secretary for the other and, on retiring, was raised to the peerage with the title of”—something rather far-fetched and pretentious, as a rule. After that it’s plain sailing. But, if one suggests that even a successful barrister must have had some kind of father and mother, one is considered to have been tactless. . . I believe it was shipping. . . They talked a great deal about “yards”, which one always associates with that sort of thing.
I met Mrs. Surdan on one of my committees during the war. When my niece Phyllida was working at that hospital, she befriended the girl—Hilda—; and Mrs. Surdan made this an excuse for introducing herself. I recognized her at once as one of the nameless, efficient women who impose their wills on a committee; earnest and hard-working, but occasionally rather diffi-
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