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Updated: June 24, 2025
"Where Beauty, Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell," I responded, cutting it, as though mutton, thick, "teaches e'en the humblest visitor the reigning Muse's art." "You may have this one, if you like," said Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell simply. Supper came at last, and, with supper, Eva. I must now write it down that she was not a type of English beauty.
My exact feelings towards James were too intricate to be defined in a single word. Not so my feelings towards Eva. "Hate" supplied the lacuna in her case. Thus the month began. The next point of importance is my interview with Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell. She had known all along how matters stood in regard to Eva and myself. She had not been hostile to me on that account.
I will say plainly there was nothing of that kind about Eva tonight. She had decided to go to the ball as Peter Pan. The costume had rather scandalised old Mr. Gunton-Cresswell, a venerable Tory who rarely spoke except to grumble. Even Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell, who had lately been elected to the newly-formed Les Serfs d'Avenir, was inclined to deprecate it.
Gunton-Cresswell and give her a quarter of an hour's entertainment by telling her of the System, and explaining to her, in detail, the exact method of its working and the reason why you set it going. Having amused Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell in this manner, I should make similar revelations to Eva. It would not be pleasant for you subsequently, I suppose, but we all have our troubles.
My eyes were leaden with slumber, but I forced myself to decipher the following message, which had been telegraphed to West Kensington Lane: Wedding must be postponed. "I've had no hand in this," I cried; "but," I added enthusiastically, "it serves Eva jolly well right." Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell seemed somehow to drift away after that. Apparently I went to sleep again, and she didn't wait.
That night I had a letter from her. She said that in order to avoid all unpleasantness, Eva's engagement would be of the briefest nature possible. That the marriage was fixed for the twelfth of next month; that the wedding would be a very quiet one; and that until the day of the wedding Eva would not be in London. It amused me to find how thoroughly I had terrified Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell.
I did not even try to justify my behaviour to Julian or to Margaret, or for she must suffer, too to Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell, who, I knew well, was socially ambitious for her niece. To all these things I was indifferent. I repeated softly to myself, "We love each other." From this state of coma, however, I was aroused by the appearance of my window-blind. I saw, in fact, that my room was illuminated.
It admits the success, but shakes its head. Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell took an early opportunity of drawing me aside, and began gently to pump me. After I had responded with sufficient docility to her leads, she reiterated her delight at seeing me again. I had concluded my replies with the words, "I am a struggling journalist, Mrs. Cresswell."
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