It was, however, about Clare that I was chiefly troubled.  The poor child did not seem able to rally from her shock at all.  She crept about looking miserable and strained, and seemed to take an interest in nothing.  I sent her away to her aunt at Bournemouth for a change; Bournemouth has not only sea air but ritualistic churches of the kind she likes; but I do not think it did her much good.  Her affection for poor Oliver had, indeed, gone very deep, and she has a very faithful heart.

Percy appointed the Haste’s assistant editor to the editorship; he had not Oliver’s flair, Percy said, but he did very well on the lines laid out for him.  There was a rumour in Fleet Street that the proprietors of the Weekly Fact meant to start a daily, under the editorship of that man Gideon, and that it would have for its special object a campaign against our press.  But they would have to wait for some time, till the paper situation was easier.  The rumour gave Percy no alarm, for he did not anticipate a long life for such a venture.  A paper under such management would certainly never, he said, achieve more than a small circulation.

Meanwhile, times were very troubled.  The Labour people, led astray by that bad man, Smillie, were becoming more and more extreme in their demands.  Ireland was, as always, very disturbed.  The Coalition Government—­not a good government, but, after all, better than any which would be likely to succeed it—­was shaking from one bye-election blow after another.  The French were being disagreeable about Syria, the Italians about Fiume, and every one about the Russian invasion, or evacuation, or whatever it was, which even Percy’s press joined in condemning.  And coal was exorbitant, and food prices going up, and the reviews of Audrey against the World most ignorant and unfair.  I believe that that spiteful article of Mr. Gideon’s about me did a good deal of harm among ignorant and careless reviewers, who took their opinions from others, without troubling to read my books for themselves.  So many reviewers are like that—­stupid and prejudiced people, who cannot think for themselves, and often merely try to be funny about a book instead of giving it fair criticism.  Of course, that Fact article was merely comic; I confess I laughed at it, though I believe it was meant to be taken very solemnly.  But I was always like that.  I know it is shocking of me, but I have to laugh when people are pompous and absurd; my sense of the ridiculous is too strong for me.

After Oliver’s death, I did not recognise Mr. Gideon when I met him, not in the least on personal grounds, but because I definitely wished to discourage his intimacy with my family.  But we had one rather strange interview.

2

I was going to see Jane one afternoon, soon after the tragedy, and as I was emerging from the tube station I met Mr. Gideon.  We were face to face, so I had to bow, which I did very coldly, and I was surprised when he stopped and said, in that morose way of his, ’You’re going to see Jane, aren’t you, Lady Pinkerton?’