Page:The Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman.djvu/14

 Everything went off too wonderfully. Perhaps you have seen my brother Brackenbury? Or Ruth? Ah, I am sorry; I should have been vastly entertained to hear what they were saying, what they dared say. Ruth did indeed offer to pay the expenses of the operation—the belated prick of conscience!—; and it was on the tip of my tongue to say we are not yet dependent on her spasmodic charity. Also, that I can keep my lips closed about Brackenbury without expecting a—tip! But they know I can’t afford to refuse £500. . . If they, if everybody would only leave one alone! Spied on, whispered about. ..

The papers made such an absurd stir! If you are known by name as occupying any little niche, the world waits gaping below. I suppose I ought to be flattered, but for days there were callers, letters, telephone-messages. Like Royalty in extremis. . . And I never pretended that the operation was in any sense critical. ..

Do you know, beyond saying that, I would much rather not talk about it? This very modern frankness. . . Not you, of course! But, when a man like my brother-in-law Spenworth strides in here a few hours before the anæsthetic is administered and says “What is the matter with you? Much ado about nothing, I call it. . .” That from Arthur’s brother