The Little Vanities of Mrs. Whittaker: A NovelWinter, John Strange
General
The Little Vanities of Mrs. Whittaker: A Novel
Winter, John Strange
Domestic fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction
"Maudie? Oh, Maudie's mind works in quite a different way to
mine--always did. Maudie thinks it is just an ordinary affair of that
kind, and left alone she would have gone down and taxed him with it, but
Harry wouldn't hear of it. But daddy was there and she was there--and a
horrid-looking brute she was--but whoever she was, and whatever she may
be, I am perfectly sure there is not the slightest occasion for you to
worry about her, one way or the other."
"I don't--" Regina began, but Julia promptly cut her short.
"Oh, yes, darling, you do. You were quite a changed woman after that
night--ah, and before that night, too. I know perfectly well that you
are worrying, I could burst out crying sometimes to see the look on your
face, and poor old daddy is quite unconscious, he hasn't the least idea
why you are so quiet and so unlike yourself. He asked me quite
anxiously the other day if I thought you were over-doing the treatment
with Dr. Money-Berry."
"I believe," said Regina, who before all things was loyal to her Alfred,
"I believe that all persons inclining to stoutness would be better in
health, and in mind too, if they would take means to keep themselves to
proper proportions. Oh, Dr. Money-Berry is quite right in saying that
fat is a disease, and should be treated as such. I have been to him once
or twice lately because I was not sure that my symptoms were desirable.
I am really going to him to-day to say good-by for the second time.
Don't worry about me, darling child, and don't discuss your father with
Maudie. I have never entered into details of business and I never intend
to. Your father distinctly told me that he was dining with somebody on
business; it would be intolerable for him, placed as he is, if his wife
were to worry him to death every time he spoke to another woman. Dear
little girl, you'll be marrying one of these days, and you'll have a
husband of your own; then you will realize that between husband and wife
discretion is truly the better part of valor. And I wish you would put
that incident right out of your head--regard it as a business
matter--and not think of it every time you think I am not looking as gay
as usual. You know, my darling, I have many thoughts busying to and fro
in my brain. I have never been a mere machine for ordering dinner, and
although I have given up public life, I have not given up all my
thoughts--I still have an intellect. Your father is the best and noblest
man I ever knew. One of these days he will explain what, so far, he has
only told me in part. But I must be going, I am rather late already.
Tell me, are you occupied all day?"
"Yes, that is to say, I am lunching with Maudie, and then I am going on
to my club."
"No, come and have tea at mine. I shall expect you between half-past
four and five."
"Right you are, mother."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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