But I thought Phyllida would have told you about that; she has been so—immodestly candid. He returned to London next day, saying he'd received a wire overnight. I met him the following week, and he told me. Simple and straightforward as ever... He wanted to know how Phyllida was; had Lady Brackenbury thought him very rude? It was one thing or the other, he said: he could ask Phyllida to marry him or he could go right away and forget about her ... until he had something more to offer, I think he said... You and I know what that means. He was greatly upset and begged me to write occasionally when he was back at the front, just to tell him how Phyllida was; he wouldn't write to her himself, he said, because he wanted to leave her unembarrassed and it would be too painful for him.
"If she's still unmarried when I've made good," he said, "it will be time to begin writing then."
I suppose it was because Phyllida had never been in love before... I was ready to make allowances, but I was not prepared for the outburst, the extravagance, the self-indulgence of grief.
"Come, come, my dear!," I said, "it would have been a very unsuitable match; and, if you haven't the sense to realize it, he has."
She turned on me like a fury... I don't know what was in his letter of good-bye; but I suppose it was the usual romantic promise that he'd go away and make his fortune and then come back to claim her. (Good riddance, too, I thought; though I liked him.) Phyllida evidently treated it quite seriously...
"If he'd been mine for a week or a day..." she kept sobbing. "I know he'll be killed." ..
Well, he wasn't the only man in the world, but nothing that I could say was right...
"I think he behaved very properly," I said. "He did me the honour to ask my advice; and, if I see him again, I shall tell him so."
Then the flood-gates were opened. I—tell—you—as I tried to tell her, but she wouldn't let me speak—that I gave no advice; I wanted him to proceed with caution, but I never even told him to wait and think... He did it entirely on his own initiative. What he quite rightly saw was that he could not take advantage of a young girl's infatuation to marry her for her money. Phyllida really shocked me with the things she said, but I'm old enough to have learnt patience; it will not be very long before she begs my pardon and admits that perhaps a certain measure of wisdom may be conceded to age... In the meantime I prefer not to mix myself up in the broils and wrangles that seem a daily feature of life at the Hall. One makes a certain effort; and, after that, one has to leave people, in the homely old phrase, to stew in their own juice... I need hardly tell you that Brackenbury took her side. And poor Ruth, though I've learnt not to expect too much of Ruth after all these years. If, for curiosity's sake, you ask them what I am supposed to have done, I should be deeply interested to know what they say. I have nothing but praise for the young man. When you are in the army, one private is as good as another; in hospital, you are a name, a bed, a case. That is so fine, I always think; it makes this truly a people's war. Colonel Butler would have gone to the Hall sooner or later without any prompting from me; and, once there, it was impossible for a man of any intelligence to pretend that there were no differences... It is so hard for me to put it into words without seeming a snob, but you understand what I mean...
You will find my boy Will there. He never seems to come home without picking up a cold, and the doctor has very sensibly recommended that he should be given an extension of leave. I was not very much set on his going, I admit. Goodness me, any silly little ill-bred things that Phyllida may pick up from her poor mother are forgotten as soon as they are said; I have no need to stand on my dignity. The sins of the fathers... Brackenbury never checks her... But you know what a girl is when she has had a disappointment, we must both of us have seen it a dozen times ... some sort of natural recoil. If she throws herself at Will's head... With her money they'd have enough to live on, of course, and young people ought to be very comfortable on four thousand a year. (It will be seven, when the parents die.) One need not look ahead to a family; but the grandfather, Ruth's father, would not be illiberal. But, though dear Will must marry some day, I dread the time when I must lose him...