Page:The Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman.djvu/129

 places with Will. . . And Will may very well have been galled by the light-hearted way in which Hilda could not get on without him one day and got on quite comfortably without him the next. No one likes ingratitude, though it was on the tip of my tongue to say that he need not grudge his leavings to poor Culroyd.

It was not so easy to find a free night, as the young people seemed to have made arrangements for days ahead, and in the end I told Will to leave them to their whispering and silliness and talk to me. “Why you ever invited her I don’t know,” he grumbled; and I could see that the strain of playing cavalier for so long was telling on him.

“It was an opportunity for doing her a little kindness,” I said. “And is she going to marry Culroyd?,” he asked, “or is she simply playing with him until she finds something better worth her while?”

“Isn’t it rather a question whether Culroyd will marry her?,” I suggested. “After all, she doesn’t bring very much. . . They seem to get on quite well together.”

“I haven’t seen them,” said Will. “It would be amusing to watch. . .” When they all met, I can’t say that it was very amusing for me. Will can be rather a tease when he likes, but I think it a pity to