But you agree that they are hardly the people I should wish to discuss my operation with. And whatever I have said to you has of course been said in confidence.

II
LADY ANN SPENWORTH REPUDIATES ALL RESPONSIBILITY

Lady Ann (to a friend of proved discretion): But this is as delightful as it is unexpected! If we only have the carriage to ourselves... I often say that a first-class ticket is the merest snare and delusion; during the war it has exposed one to a new order—I've no doubt they are very brave and so forth and so on, but that sort of thing ought to be kept for the trenches. One doesn't want to travel with it, one certainly doesn't want to live with it...

At least I don't. There's no accounting for tastes, as my poor niece Phyllida has been shewing. You are going to Brackenbury, of course? Every one does by this train. In the old days my father enjoyed the privilege of being able to stop every train that ran through Brackenbury station; he held property on both sides of the line and was a director for very many years. One said a word to the guard—they were a very civil lot of men—, and that was literally all. My brother has allowed that to lapse, like everything else; and you now have to come by the four-twenty or not at all.

I should have thought the Brackenbury parties were difficult enough without giving everybody a gratuitous two hours in the train to grow tired of everybody else. My sister-in-law Ruth has other qualities, no doubt, but she will not go down to history as one of the great English hostesses... It's not surprising, perhaps; but, if you're not born to that sort of thing, wouldn't you make an effort to acquire it? There must be brains of some kind in the family, or the father could never have made all that money. I always felt a certain responsibility about Ruth; Brackenbury had to marry some one with a little money, and, knowing the sort of girl he'd fancy if I gave him half a chance... I was fourteen years older and knew something of poor Brackenbury's limitations; when I met Ruth Philpot and found that the money did come from quite a respectable shipping firm in Hull, I said: "Marry her, my dear boy, before you have a chance of making a greater fool of yourself." And I told him I'd do what I could for her; little hints, you understand... I'm afraid poor Ruth was not a very apt pupil; and Brackenbury, who never had any sense of his position, was a mere broken reed. "Assert yourself!," I used to say. "If you don't absorb her, she'll absorb you." That is the only occasion on which I have ever interfered in matters of the heart, either to guide or check; I look at Ruth Brackenbury and say to myself: "Ann Spenworth, you have your lesson ever before you." I would not urge or hinder now, even with my own son. Phyllida may try to fix responsibility on me, but I repudiate it—entirely. In the present instance I feel that it is, once again, the sins of the parents... As I felt it my duty to tell them, there wouldn't have been a moment's trouble with Phyllida, if she had been brought up differently...

I? Goodness me, no! Many, many things will have to be unsaid before Brackenbury induces me to set foot in his house again. You know whether I am the woman to stand on my dignity, but, when one's niece writes one letters in the third person... Indeed I know what I am talking about! "Lady Phyllida Lyster presents her compliments to Lady Ann Spenworth and is not interested in any explanation that Lady Ann may think fit to put forward." These are the manners of the war. From the very first I urged Brackenbury not to let her work in that hospital; some one had to go, of course; I'm not so foolish as to think that a hospital would run itself without hands, but why Phyllida? And, goodness me, if they couldn't stop her, they might have made a few enquiries, exercised some little control... Christine Malleson is very energetic and capable, no doubt, but you would hardly look for standards or traditions in her; however, she and my Lady Maitland and the rest seem able to carry people off their feet by sheer violence. Now Ruth and Brackenbury are paying for it. And, of course, poor Aunt Ann is to blame for everything. For the present I think it's best to leave them severely alone. One tries to do what seems to be one's duty; one puts up with a great many rebuffs; but in the end people must be left, in the homely old phrase, to stew in their own juice...

I'm really not sure how much is supposed to be known. Phyllida will no doubt tell you her side, simply as a means of attacking me. She works herself into such a state! I told Brackenbury that he ought to send her away for a complete change... I'm sick and tired of the whole thing; I'm sure it contributed to my illness; but, if it is going to be discussed, you'd better hear the truth. The whole time she was working at the hospital, Phyllida did me the honour to make my house her own; and, if I questioned my own wisdom, it was because of Will. He would be home on leave from time to time; and, perhaps on account of a curious dream which I had about them at the time of my operation, I was not at all sure that I wanted to see the intimacy increasing; when he marries, it will have to be some one with a little money, but I do not want to lose him yet and I cannot feel that Phyllida is very suitable... You can imagine, therefore, whether I should be likely to scheme or contrive to throw them into each other's arms; to intrigue to get rivals out of the way... I have lost the thread.

Ah, yes! Phyllida! Now, I chose my words carefully: "making my house her own," not "staying in my charge." When I went into the nursing-home, I tackled Brackenbury...

"Please understand," I said, "that I accept no responsibility. The child goes to and from the hospital when she likes, how she likes. I know nothing of the people with whom she associates there; and, if you like the idea of her coming in at all hours from theatres and dances, I suppose it's all right. But I can't stop her," I said; "I feel it my duty to tell you I can't stop her."