Errington was perfectly happy--he wanted no one but
his wife, and the idea of entertaining a party of guests who would most
certainly interfere with his domestic enjoyment, seemed almost abhorrent
to him. The county-people called,--but missed seeing Thelma, for during
the daytime she was always out with her husband taking long walks and
rambling excursions to the different places hallowed by Shakespeare's
presence,--and when she, instructed by Sir Philip, called on the
county-people, they also seemed to be never at home.
And so, as yet, she had made no acquaintances, and now that she had been
married eight months and had come to London, the same old story repeated
itself. People called on her in the afternoon just at the time when she
went out driving,--when she returned their visits, she, in her turn,
found them absent. She did not as yet understand the mystery of having
"a day" on which to receive visitors in shoals--a day on which to drink
unlimited tea, talk platitudes, and utterly bored and exhausted at the
end thereof--in fact, she did not see the necessity of knowing many
people,--her husband was all-sufficient for her,--to be in his society
was all she cared for.
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