Adela.
These replies came in one by one, and each was like a bomb. Truly, the war had upset things, and khaki provided a terrific opposition. I was mad, I may tell you. Like the others, I had invested in a first-class sleeping-berth on the London Express, and had arranged for a royal luncheon with the boys en route. Now the whole scheme had fizzled out. Of course, I could have gone to see the dear old mater; but as I had told her such a ‘whopper,’ this would have been rather embarrassing. Wasn’t it rotten bad luck? Molly Charming running a staff-captain; Phyllis Plunger in the W.A.A.C.’s; Jeanette, of wonderful memory, in a convent; and Gladys Sprightly actually linked to an army chaplain! I did feel offended. Of course, there was Adela—steady old Adela. She was only five miles away, and she was dying to see me. But I didn’t want to go, for the very plain reason that she wanted me to come. Whether you agree or not, that is the attitude of the average man. When the Blue Bird of Happiness is in his hand, he does not want it. His eyes look away and afar. Man always desires to chase the unknown, to court the uncertain, and fritter away his time and his manhood pursuing the bubbles and the maddening mirage.
‘You look glum, John,’ remarked Beefy that night.
‘Yes. My scheme has fizzled out.’
‘You’re a silly ass.’
‘Why?’
‘Hang it all! you wire women, asking to see them. That isn’t the plan. You don’t understand the dear girls.’
‘Well, old Bluebeard, what would you do?’
‘I simply wire: “Coming to see you. Meet me at So-and-so—certain.” That’s all! They turn up all right. It’s an order. Women love to be ordered about. When you start to say “please,” they think you’re a bally old fool. I’m getting fed up trying to educate you,’ concluded Beefy, going off.
On this subject Beefy was an authority.