“Richards will do all that for you, my dear.”
“Oh, yes, thank you, nothing can be kinder than Richards. But I’ll just see to my own dresses.” And so she went to bed early.
Lady Lufton did not see her son for the next two days, but when she did, of course she said a word or two about Griselda.
“You have heard the news, Ludovic?” she asked.
“Oh, yes: it’s at all the clubs. I have been overwhelmed with presents of willow branches.”
“You, at any rate, have got nothing to regret,” she said.
“Nor you either, mother. I am sure that you do not think you have. Say that you do not regret it. Dearest mother, say so for my sake. Do you not know in your heart of hearts that she was not suited to be happy as my wife,—or to make me happy?”
“Perhaps not,” said Lady Lufton, sighing. And then she kissed her son, and declared to herself that no girl in England could be good enough for him.