I decided to signalize our return to England by a little party--just a few friends to dinner, a little music, a few more friends coming in if they had nothing better to do. I have never found it necessary to inform the world--as your Mrs. Tom Noddys do--that they have left Gloucester Place for Eastbourne or Eastbourne for Gloucester Place. Goodness me, "Who wonders--and who cares?," as they say. But I was not sorry to find that our little party was being discussed; and, of course, when once the princess's name was mentioned, the papers came at me with open arms... I left no stone unturned to make a success of the little gathering. We have always been quite pitiably restricted in our entertaining, but this was not the moment to grudge a few extra pounds well laid-out... And it does not require a mathematician to prove that Arthur could have given me more money if he had given less in other directions. Of course, I did not _hint_ such a thing; my dear, _peace_, _forgiveness_, _forgetfulness_ was what I wanted... And it was not necessary; Arthur assented to everything. First of all I made certain of the princess. What she can see in a dull old woman like me you must ask _her_; but she has been a _true_ and _loving_ friend for perhaps more years than either of us now cares to recall; and, if humble affection and gratitude matter to her, she knows that they are hers whenever she does me the honour of visiting my house... She likes coming, I know; in me, she has been gracious enough to say, she finds an attitude of mind, a point of view which is disappearing only too fast; in a sense--I am sure she would be the first to excuse my presumption--we were brought up in the same school. There was no difficulty about securing my brother. It is a pose with Brackenbury to pretend that he hates what he calls "orders-and-decorations" parties, but my sister-in-law is not so jaded. Perhaps in the world in which she was reared... I certainly notice marked civility and almost affection if Ruth hears that I am giving a party and that the princess has graciously consented to be present. My niece Phyllida is less punctilious in her courtesy; there is rather too much of the "Oh-I-don't-care-_what_-I-do" attitude about her, and, since she found that her cabman hero was still alive and somewhere in London... A curious recklessness and restlessness... I invited her because I cannot bear to see a girl--young, well-connected, rich, good-looking--simply _moping_... They say it takes two to make a quarrel, and I have refused to quarrel with Phyllida, so that at last I think she has ceased to believe that I turned the cabman hero against her in the hope of keeping her for my boy. I--have--not--lifted--a--_finger_! She evidently enjoys being with Will; and, if he wanted to marry her, I should not stand in the way. Ever since that Morecambe nightmare began, I have felt that I shall never know a moment's peace until he is safely married...