Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
Phyllida, of course, was struggling with her obsession. I do feel Brackenbury incurred a responsibility in not sending her right away. Ever since Colonel Butler disappeared, she has alternately fumed and fretted. Now she is becoming hard and cynical; if she were ten years older, you would call her “soured”. Ridiculous at one-and-twenty, or whatever she is. . . And she became no more normal after giving up hope of him. Oh, yes, I’m thankful to say that I think all that is quite over, though we must expect to see an occasional relapse; hence the discussion. She said that, if she met her Hilary or ever found out where he was, she would throw herself into his arms and ask him to marry her. And sotto voce the customary hateful suggestion that I had taunted him with wanting to marry her for her money and so driven him away in order to clear the ground for my Will. It is always on the tip of my tongue to say that she seems very certain of my boy. But it is the modern fashion for a girl to think she has only to drop the handkerchief. . . Brackenbury patted her hand (if he had slapped her it would have been more to the point), I went on with my work. She wanted the stimulus of a little opposition, and that was just what I refused to give her. Then she began talking in general terms about the difficulty that a girl has
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