Thus, instead
of calling upon her or asking her to meet him by appointment, or
arranging an evening at the theatre and otherwise behaving in a
sensible manner, he hung about her house, endeavouring to come upon her
'by chance.' Further, having met her at our place he seemed to be
under the impression that she was one of my closest friends, and came
to see me every day, judging by the times he 'dropped in' in the
obvious anticipation of meeting her. Not finding his quarry, he talked
about her to Henry, though I must admit his audience was not always
sympathetic.
'I don't believe in interfering in these things,' remarked Henry, one
evening, when we were alone, 'but, frankly, I should be really sorry to
see good old William throw himself away on that frivolous, stupid
little Gladys. They'd be desperately unhappy after being married a
week. Couldn't something be said to them, do you think--a hint thrown
out from time to time?'
'Throwing hints--or anything else--wouldn't be of the slightest use,
Henry. Have you ever met a person in love who would listen to sound
advice of the sort? If you want to know how to get yourself intensely
unpopular--with two people at least--try intervening in what you
consider an unsuitable love match.'
I spoke with feeling, for I had once been implored to use my influence
to part a couple who were, to all appearances, acutely incompatible.
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