luckily there's no room for me in it--to still stuffier garden
parties. And, besides, I don't feel that I can take any desperate step
of that kind until the Irrevocable has been written in Destiny's Book.

Will Maule is not married yet.

Well, anyhow, the meditation on Friendship was comparatively
successful. Wisdom I found beyond me, and Beauty awakened painful
memories. To-day I mean to concentrate on wealth--one of my
Professor's theories is that if you concentrate regularly on a thing
you are bound in the long run to get what you set your mind upon, and I
do find my position of dependence upon Aunt Eliza too unspeakably
galling. What a monstrous injustice it seems that I--who if I had been
born a boy, must have been Earl of Gaverick, should be at the mercy of
an ill-tempered, miserly, old woman who may leave the home of my
forefathers to a crossing-sweeper if she pleases. I suppose it ought to
go to Chris, but one doesn't feel called upon to arraign Fate on behalf
of a distant cousin who by rights has no business to be Lord Gaverick
at all.

I'm concentrating on Art too. Every day I do some inspirational
painting by the sea shore. I've made some studies of Wave-fairies for
the Children's Story Book we planned to do together. It's quite
invigorating to sport about with them in imagination, in a grey-green
stormy sea, out of reach of human banalities. I can feel the cold spray
as I paint and the sense of power and rest in the elemental forces--an
almost Wagnerian feeling of great Cosmic Realities.'

Again Mrs Gildea smiled to herself. How like Biddy O'Hara!