Patricia Brent, Spinster

led. That night she was dining out! As suddenly as it had come the smile faded from her lips and eyes, and she mentally apostrophised herself as a little idiot for what she had done. Then, r

pon her head and, bowing elaborately to her reflection, said, "Patricia Brent, I invite you to dine with me this evening at the Quadrant Gri

another shilling, perhaps two," she murmured. Then she must have a good dinner or else the crème de menthe would get into her head, that would mean about seven shillings more. "Oh! Patricia

cking at the door to inform her tha

vate secretary whilst he was in the process of rising, she pondered over her last night's announcement. She was convinced that

Sikkum, supported by Mrs. Craske-Morton, had returned to the charge time after time. Patricia had taken refuge in her habitual breakfast silence and, finding that the

d to her. Her childhood had been spent in a small town on the East Coast under the care of her father's sister who, when Mrs. Brent died, had come to keep house for Mr. John Brent and take care of his five

th great care her aunt's hard features and angular body, and wondering if she had ever been pre

ther's companionship. He was a silent man, little given to emotion or demonstration of affec

She had been schooled to regard God as the God of punishment rather than the God of love. One of her most terrifying recollections was that of the Sundays spent under the paternal roof. To her father, religion counted for nothing; but to her aunt it counted for everything in the world; the here

ulation, "But, Aunt Adelaide, suppose God doesn't mak

ness that Patricia, though only six years of age, had been sati

t that other children, the few who were in Aunt Adelaide's opinion fit for her to associate with, made it obvious that she was one by herself. Patri

one that she could ostensibly be reading if her aunt happened to come into the library, and the

en at any school; for Miss Brent was thorough in everything she undertook. The one thing for which Patricia had to be grateful to her aunt was her general

of working, and with the money that she realised from the sale of her father's effects, particularly his library, she came to London and underwent a course of training in shorthand, typewriting, and general secretarial

Mrs. Bonsor, however, after a slight altercation with Destiny, had decided that Mr. Bonsor was to become a rising politician. Thus it came about that, pushed on from behind by Mrs. Bonsor and

vely he was gentle and kind. Mrs. Bonsor disliked Patricia and Patricia was indifferent to Mrs. Bonsor. Mrs. Bonsor, how

that she had no intention of being treated other than as an equal by Mrs. Bonsor, and the result was a sort of armed neutrality. They seldom met; when by chance they encountered each other in the house Mrs. Bonsor would say, "Goo

question by announcing, "I walked across the Park this morning, Mrs. Bonsor, it was most delightful," and Mrs. Bonsor had glared at her, but, rem

Patricia had thanked her and said she would. But when she found that her luncheon was served on a tray in the library, where Mr.

e, had determined to follow the parental decree. How he met Miss Triggs, the daughter of the prosperous Streatham builder and contractor, Samuel Triggs, nobody knew, but his father had congratulated him very cordially about having contrived t

te Arthur Bonsor. Poor Mr. Bonsor, who desired nothing better than a peaceable life and had looked forward to a future of ease and prosperity when he married Miss Triggs, discovered when too late that he had married not so much Miss Triggs, as an abstract sense of ambition. Domestic pe

very important function to which he could gain admittance, particularly the funerals of the illustrious great. Egged on by her he became an inveterate writer of letters to the newspapers, particularly The Times. Sometimes his letters appe

l, but she must keep 'er thumb on the bell-push." That was Mrs. Bonsor all over; she lacked restraint, both physical

second time he had, by some curious juggling of chance, been successful in an almost equally strong Radical division, much to the delight of Mrs. Bonsor. The suc

ment, had been that she had decided that Patricia was indifferent to men, and she decided that

he feminine heart. Once he had permitted his hand to rest upon Patricia's; but he never forgot the look sh

to live in Eaton Square. The old man was not lacking in shrewdness, and he had no intention of being thrown overboard by his ambitious daughter. It occasionally happened that Mr. Triggs would descend upon the Bonsor household and, alth

ed with good-humour, and was a woman who would always talk in an omnibus, or join a wedding crowd and compare notes with those about her. She addressed Mr. Triggs as "Pa," which caused he

those of Mayfair. He leaned towards checks, rather loud checks, trousers that were tight about the calf, and a coat that was a sporting conception of the morning coat, with a large flapped pocket on either side. He invariab

s fringe of sandy-grey hair, to his square-toed boots that invariably emitted little squeaks of joy. He wore a fringe of whiskers round his chubby face, otherwise he was clean-shave

r a box of chocolates, to the scandal of Mrs. Bonsor, who had once expostu

"She's a fine gal. If I was a bit younger I should

stulated in horror. "Remember

ended in violent and wheezy coughings and gaspings. Had Mrs. Bonsor known that he repeated the conversat

he's got time for nothing else. She ain't exactly proud of her old father," he had added shrewdly, "but sh

a rather suddenly, "Why don'

"Married, me, Mr. Triggs? Oh! I suppose for one thi

pondered a li

arry a chap because he's got a lot of brass. You marry for the same reason that me and my missis married, because we felt we couldn't do without

out her hand to the old man, who took and held it for a moment in his. As s

y Old Dutch'?" he asked

cia n

fool I'm gettin', talkin' to you in this way. Now I mus

Bonsor di