The confessions of a well-meaning womanMcKenna, Stephen
General
The confessions of a well-meaning woman
McKenna, Stephen
English fiction -- 20th century; Upper class -- England -- Fiction; Women -- England -- Fiction
I don't _want_ him to go abroad... When any one in his position
seeks his fortune in a foreign country, there is always a tendency
among some people to ask what he has _done_, to treat him as a
remittance-man ... which is offensive without being particularly
amusing... I have lost the thread...
Ah, yes! My little party. One thing I noticed on returning to
England was the extraordinary mixture of people that one met
everywhere. For this, though I am personally fond of her, I blame
Connie Maitland more than any dozen other women. Not being a
_persona grata_ in certain circles to which she would dearly like to
have the _entrée_, she seems to cultivate numbers for their own sake.
When the princess... More by a hint, you understand, than by any
direct criticism... But she cannot help seeing that the old barriers
_have_ been broken down... It is always on the tip of my tongue to
make my Lady Maitland wholly responsible. During the war one was
_flung_ against these people, as it were: the strangest generals who
seemed to have been stock-brokers the moment before... All that sort
of thing... "Captains of Industry" (I believe they are called) with
the queerest accents and all holding high office. There was an
_epidemic_ of cabinet rank; and, if one had business in Whitehall,
one met the oddest people--never the same two days running. Connie
Maitland _thoroughly_ enjoyed herself, I always felt; so many new
people to know before any one else. (I am not ashamed to confess
that it is _not_ my ambition simply to know new people.) When I
returned from Menton, I did drop a little hint and suggest that, as
the war was now over, she ought to revise some of her war
friendships. Quite kindly and gradually, you understand; I know that
with some of the really estimable women who sat on committees with
me... "_Is_ it true kindness?," I asked myself. "They lead their
lives, you lead yours; the war brought you together, but you've
_nothing_ else in common..." After that breath of fresh air at
Menton, I was honestly truly aghast to find what London had become
without one's noticing it. I sought an opportunity of speaking to
the princess about it: I felt some one ought to make a little stand.
_I_ don't count, because I'm not in a position to entertain; but I
did resolve to confine my little party _simply_ to the old friends...
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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