"Do  I  look  it?"  she  asked.  And  I  confessed  that  she
didn't.  Indeed,  all  ghosts  were  laid,  nor  was  there  about
her  the  slightest  evidence  of  mourning  or  regret.  One  was
forced  to  acknowledge  her  perfection  in  the  part  she  had
chosen  as  the  arbitress  of  social  honours.  The  candidates
were  rapidly  increasing;  almost  every  month,  it  seemed,
someone  turned  up  with  a  fortime  and  the  aspirations  that
go  with  it,  and  it  was  Mrs.  Durrett  who  decided  the  delicate
question  of  fitness.  With  these,  and  with  the  world  at  large,
her  manner  might  best  be  described  as  difficult;  and  I  was
often  amused  at  the  way  in  which  she  contrived  to  keep  them
at  arm's  length  and  make  them  uncomfortable.  With  her
intimates  —  of  whom  there  were  few  —  she  was  frank.
"I  suppose  you  enjoy  it,"  I  said  to  her  once.
"Of  course  I  enjoy  it,  or  I  shouldn't  do  it,"  she  retorted.
"It  isn't  the  real  thing,  as  I  told  you  once.  But  none  of
us  gets  the  real  thing.  It's  power.  .  .  .  Just  as  you  enjoy
what  you're  doing  —  sorting  out  the  unfit.  It's  a  game,  it
keeps  us  from  brooding  over  things  we  can't  help.  And
after  all,  when  we  have  good  appetites  and  are  fairly  happy,
why  should  we  complain?"

"I'm  not  complaining,"  I  said,  taking  up  a  cigarette,
"since  I  still  enjoy  your  favour."

She  regarded  me  curiously.
"And  when  you  get  married,  Hugh?"

"Sufficient  unto  the  day,"  I  replied.
"How  shall  I  get  along,  I  wonder,  with  that  simple  and
unsophisticated  lady  when  she  appears?"

"Well,"  I  said,  "you  wouldn't  marry  me."


234  A  FAR  COUNTRY

She  shook  her  head  at  me,  and  smiled.  .  ..
