“I hope Bella won’t be late,” said the Dean; “we haven’t too much time after luncheon to catch our train.”
“Society has made its own decalogue, a code just fit for middling people, who are neither very good nor very bad; but the odd thing is it punishes you just as severely if you act above its code as if you act below.”
“Sometimes it makes a god of you when you’re dead.”
“But it takes precious good care to crucify you when you’re alive, Algernon.”
Soon after this Bella came in, and when the Dean went upstairs, told Miss Ley that on her bookseller’s advice she had purchased for Herbert Field the two portly tomes of Dowden’s Life of Shelley.
“I hope soon he’ll have enough poetry to make a little volume,” said Bella, “and then I shall ask him if I may arrange for publication. I wonder if Mr. Kent will help me to find a publisher.”
“You will find a bank balance your best friend there, my dear,” answered Miss Ley.
Basil announced the approaching marriage to his solicitor, for his small fortune was held in trust, and his mother’s signature was needed for various documents. In a day or two the following letter reached him.
“CHER ENFANT.
“I find that you mean to be married, and I desire to give you my maternal blessing. Do come to tea to-morrow and receive it in due form. You have sulked with me quite long enough, and the masculine boudeur is always a trifle ridiculous. In case it has escaped your memory I venture to remind you that I am—your mother.
“Yours affectionately,
“MARGUERITE VIZARD.”