But, until she shakes off her obsession, I should pity any man who tried to marry her. At one time my boy Will seemed attracted to her out of compassion for her loneliness and misery. Those were anxious days, I can assure you, though I should have been glad to see Will safely married to almost any one. He is undoubtedly of an age; and what I called "the Morecambe menace"... We have heard nothing of the Phentons (you know, I always called her Miss Molly "Wanton") since the father conducted his blackmailing descent upon us, protesting that Will had made this girl an offer of marriage, talking about horse-whips. I hope and pray that it is all over, but one can never be certain. For the last fortnight I have succeeded in _not_ thinking about them; I suppose I should be grateful to Arthur for turning my thoughts... You are quite right! I have tried to avoid speaking bitterly _to_ him, I must not speak bitterly _about_ him. But, when the news came to me, I said: "Now indeed the bottom has fallen out of the world." It was towards the end of the year, and I had been turning the pages of my journal. Catastrophe, disappointment, anxiety... But, whatever storms may blow, I said, I can always trust my husband. Arthur was my rock and anchor. He and I seemed to stand erect, with our heads level with the stars, while these others, one after another, tripped and sprawled. And then Arthur too... I tell you now, as I told you then: I had heard and suspected _nothing_ until you put me on my guard. I truly believe that the person most affected is commonly the last to hear... And Arthur's way of life made it almost impossible for me even to guess: for years he has spent as much time away from me as with me--his board-meetings in London and Birmingham, his shooting ... and, with Will at home, there was so much _unhappy_ friction that I was not sorry when one or other went off and left me in peace for a few days. I did not enquire; so was it surprising that, if the board-meetings and so on were simply a _blind_, I should be the last person to hear? So with money. My father-in-law's will was so iniquitous... Cheniston and the house in Grosvenor Square went naturally to Spenworth; but every penny, with the exception of a wretched thousand a year for Arthur,--that was sheer wickedness. _My_ dear father would have done more for me if he could; but he had impoverished himself when he was ambassador at Vienna, and, until Brackenbury sold himself to Ruth, we were all very, very poor. The result has been that throughout my married life we have been forced to pinch and scrape. You may say that the house in Mount Street was an extravagance, but one had to live somewhere. It was for one's friends rather than oneself; I could not ask the princess to dine with me in Bayswater... Pinch and scrape, scrape and pinch. Arthur made a fair income by his director's fees, but I had dreadful moments when I thought of the future.