Walter said:
‘My dear Maud, you know nothing about it.’
I was not there, but he told me about it afterwards, and I loved him for being rude to Maud.
She seemed to come and visit us very often, but I suppose it was not very often really.
Mrs. Sebright came every Wednesday to dinner, and every Sunday we went to lunch with Grandmother in Campden Hill Square.
Hugo had gone abroad, he had gone as private secretary or attaché on a Royal Commission in India, and would be away nearly a year. He had gone already before we came back to London, and I had not seen him since the wedding.
It surprised me rather to find how little I missed him; he seemed to belong to another life, a different kind of existence that was quite past now. That had been playing at life; I was living now. Yet sometimes I thought:
‘I should like to tell Hugo about it. I should like to tell him how wonderful this is.’
He would understand, I was sure of that.
Guy came to dinner with us once or twice, but it was not a success. He and Walter did not get on at all, and somehow each showed his worst side to the other; I was sorry about it.