Richmal Crompton

“ Peter, who looked almost as white as Felicity herself, talked of old times and teased her into a shadow of her old self. Then it was as if, encouraged by our presence, she had determined to force some issue. She drew in her breath and then said: "I want to celebrate my birthday. Let's all go to a theatre to-night. Frank, ring up for seats."
It seemed a casual, insignificant suggestion, but in the silence that followed I became aware of a sudden tension.
"Darling," said Helen, "you know it's the anniversary of my mother's death. We always spend this evening at home." ”

“ And Peter sat silent in his corner. I went home early. Felicity went up to her bedroom with me. She looked white and exhausted.
"Isn't Helen wonderful?" she said at once.
"How?" I parried.
"How can you ask?" she said. "In every way. You could hardly imagine all she does for those boys and Frank. Nothing's too much trouble. She's so selfless. And don't you think her loyalty to—to her mother is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? She's a perfect saint." ”

“ Then I noticed that a small table in a corner of the room was full of portraits of the same woman, portraits taken at different periods of her life, but all showing the same vivid beauty and compelling personality. In front of them was a vase of white flowers which seemed to give the table the nature of a shrine.
Then Felicity came forward to greet me. My first glance at her told me nothing. She was pale, her radiance slightly dimmed; but she had always been pale, and a honeymoon could not last for ever. She was more self-possessed than she had been. ”

“ Peter would not live a normal lifetime, and he was not falling in love with his wife. Helen herself obviously enjoyed her position. She had sacrificed herself for a dying man, so public opinion ran. She was "wonderful," a "perfect saint." She enjoyed Peter's house and money. She had become very tired of her own home, and of Felicity, and of her father. She enjoyed her position as Peter's wife and the admiration of Peter's friends. ”

“ Her husband greeted me. He struck me as being more serious, less boyish than he had been on his honeymoon, which again was only natural. Then I turned to Helen. She looked magnificent. Felicity gave me a little proud smile when I looked from Helen to her. So she still adored Helen. ... The room seemed to be full of people. Peter gave me a mocking bow and smile from a dark corner, and I was introduced to the four brothers and three sisters-in-law—Mr. and Mrs. Bob Arkland, Mr. and Mrs. Harold Arkland, Mr. and Mrs. Dick Arkland, and Rupert Arkland. Rupert's wife was not there. ”

“ As soon as I arrived in London I received a note from Felicity, asking me to call and see her. "Do come. We're in most evenings, always on Sundays." It was a note that told me nothing. I sent for Peter. I had not seen Peter since I first heard of Felicity's engagement. ”

“ They realised that she gave them a devotion few sisters give their brothers, and they felt grateful to her. They were proud of her beauty and her charm. Her loyalty to their dead mother touched them deeply. ”

“ Helen carried off that dinner magnificently, in spite of Peter's silence and my unresponsiveness. She had enough tact and savoir faire to carry off any situation. However much one hated her, one could not help admiring her.
"It's killing Felicity," said Peter, as we went home. "Something will have to happen."
"Things don't happen," I replied. "You get a situation like this in real life and think it must come to a dénouement as it does in books, but it doesn't. It just drags on and on till——"
"It kills one or other of them. In this case Felicity," supplied Peter. "No. ”