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Updated: May 27, 2025
"What's what's to be done?" gasped Mrs Devitt, when she was presently able to speak. "Don't ask me!" replied her husband. "Can't you do anything?" asked Miss Spraggs, during a pause in her hysterical weeping. "Do what?" "Something: anything. You're a man." "I haven't grasped it yet.
"Who heard from Harold last?" asked Devitt presently. "I did," replied Miss Spraggs. "It was on Tuesday he wrote." "How did he write?" "Quite light-heartedly. He has now for some weeks: such a change for him." "H'm!" "Why do you ask?" said Mrs Devitt. "I saw Pritchett when I was in town yesterday." "Harold's doctor?" queried Miss Spraggs. "He told me he'd seen Harold last week." "At Swanage?"
"I thought every young woman, nowadays, was thirsting with ambition," said Miss Spraggs. "I suppose everyone, who isn't an idiot, has her preferences," remarked Mavis. "I don't mean that. I thought every girl was determined on living her own life to the exclusion of everything else," continued Miss Spraggs.
Once upon a time, its name-plate had decorated the gates of a stately old mansion in the Fulham of many years ago; here it was that Mrs Devitt, then Miss Hilda Spraggs, had been educated.
Miss Spraggs, whom the last eighteen months had aged in appearance, looked up from the rough draft of a letter she was composing. "Did you hear anything?" she asked, as she listened intently. "Hear what?" "The door open downstairs. Lowther's been in such a time with Montague." "I suppose Lowther is confessing everything," sighed Mrs Devitt. "Nothing of the sort," remarked Miss Spraggs.
Something as your health requires" here Jordas indulged in a sarcastic grin "something as must come, if the sky come down, or the day of Judgment was to-morrow." "I know, yes, I am quite up to you, Jordas. Let me see: last time it was a sweet-bread. That would never do again. It shall be a hundred oysters; and Spraggs shall command it, or be turned out."
"I suppose you wouldn't care to go into an office?" he continued. "A lot of girls do that kind of thing nowadays," said Mavis. "Or a shop?" put in Miss Spraggs. Mavis glanced up. "I mean a flower shop," corrected Miss Spraggs, misliking the look in Mavis's yellow eyes. Mavis looked towards where she could have seen her old home but for the intervening trees.
It was her hair that did it," answered her husband. "H'm!" came from his wife. "The pretty child of to-day is the plain girl of to-morrow" commented Miss Spraggs. "What was her real disposition?" asked Mrs Devitt. "I know nothin' about that; but she was always laughin' when I saw her." "Frivolous!" commented Mrs Devitt.
There is, of course, a disparity in our ages! You have never seen me before at least to my knowledge although you may have heard of me. The Spraggs of Marblehead are well known perhaps better than the Pottingers. And yet, Mr. Griggs" "Riggs," suggested Prosper hurriedly. "Riggs. Excuse me! I was thinking of young Lieutenant Griggs of the Navy, whom I knew in the days now past. Mr.
Half an hour afterwards, it occurred to Mrs Devitt that she might have retorted, "What one saw depended on the power of one's perceptions," but just now, all she could think of to say was: "Quite so; but there's so much good in the world, I wonder you don't see more of it." "What are you reading?" asked Miss Spraggs, as she revised the draft of her letter.
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