Somerset maughan

petits fours
stood in readiness on a model stand. Susie 
looked forward to the meeting with interest. She had heard a good 
deal of the young man, and knew that the connexion between him 
and Margaret was not lacking in romance. For years Susie had led 
the monotonous life of a mistress in a school for young ladies, and 
had resigned herself to its dreariness for the rest of her life, when a 
legacy from a distant relation gave her sufficient income to live 
modestly upon her means. When Margaret, who had been her pupil, 
came, soon after this, to announce her intention of spending a 
couple of years in Paris to study art, Susie willingly agreed to 
accompany her. Since then she had worked industriously at 
Colarossi's Academy, by no means under the delusion that she had 
talent, but merely to amuse herself. She refused to surrender the 
pleasing notion that her environment was slightly wicked. After the 
toil of many years it relieved her to be earnest in nothing; and she 
found infinite satisfaction in watching the lives of those around her. 
She had a great affection for Margaret, and though her own stock of 
enthusiasms was run low, she could enjoy thoroughly Margaret's 
young enchantment in all that was exquisite. She was a plain 
woman; but there was no envy in her, and she took the keenest 
pleasure in Margaret's comeliness. It was almost with maternal 
pride that she watched each year add a new grace to that exceeding 
beauty. But her common sense was sound, and she took care by 
good-natured banter to temper the praises which extravagant 
admirers at the drawing-class lavished upon the handsome girl both 
for her looks and for her talent. She was proud to think that she 
would hand over to Arthur Burdon a woman whose character she 
had helped to form, and whose loveliness she had cultivated with a 
delicate care. 
Susie knew, partly from fragments of letters which Margaret read to 
her, partly from her conversation, how passionately he adored his 
bride; and it pleased her to see that Margaret loved him in return 

---

with a grateful devotion. The story of this visit to Paris touched her 
imagination. Margaret was the daughter of a country barrister, with 
whom Arthur had been in the habit of staying; and when he died, 
many years after his wife, Arthur found himself the girl's guardian 
and executor. He sent her to school; saw that she had everything she 
could possibly want; and when, at seventeen, she told him of her 
wish to go to Paris and learn drawing, he at once consented. But 
though he never sought to assume authority over her, he suggested 
that she should not live alone, and it was on this account that she 
went to Susie. The preparations for the journey were scarcely made 
when Margaret discovered by chance that her father had died 
penniless and she had lived ever since at Arthur's entire expense. 
When she went to see him with tears in her eyes, and told him what 
she knew, Arthur was so embarrassed that it was quite absurd. 
'But why did you do it?' she asked him. 'Why didn't you tell me?' 
'I didn't think it fair to put you under any obligation to me, and I 
wanted you to feel quite free.' 
She cried. She couldn't help it. 
'Don't be so silly,' he laughed. 'You own me nothing at all. I've done 
very little for you, and what I have done has given me a great deal 
of pleasure.' 
'I don't know how I can ever repay you.' 
'Oh, don't say that,' he cried. 'It makes it so much harder for me to 
say what I want to.' 
She looked at him quickly and reddened. Her deep blue eyes were 
veiled with tears. 
'Don't you know that I'd do anything in the world for you?' she 
cried. 
'I don't want you to be grateful to me, because I was hoping—I 
might ask you to marry me some day.' 
Margaret laughed charmingly as she held out her hands. 

---

'You must know that I've been wanting you to do that ever since I 
was ten.' 
She was quite willing to give up her idea of Paris and be married 
without delay, but Arthur pressed her not to change her plans. At 
first Margaret vowed it was impossible to go, for she knew now that 
she had no money, and she could not let her lover pay. 
'But what does it matter?' he said. 'It'll give me such pleasure to go 
on with the small allowance I've been making you. After all, I'm 
pretty well-to-do. My father left me a moderate income, and I'm 
making a good deal already by operating.' 
'Yes, but it's different now. I didn't know before. I thought I was 
spending my own money.' 
'If I died tomorrow, every penny I have would be yours. We shall be 
married in two years, and we've known one another much too long 
to change our minds. I think that our lives are quite irrevocably 
united.' 
Margaret wished very much to spend this time in Paris, and Arthur 
had made up his mind that in fairness to her they could not marry 
till she was nineteen. She consulted Susie Boyd, whose common 
sense prevented her from paying much heed to romantic notions of 
false delicacy. 
'My dear, you'd take his money without scruple if you'd signed your 
names in a church vestry, and as there's not the least doubt that 
you'll marry, I don't see why you shouldn't now. Besides, you've got 
nothing whatever to live on, and you're equally unfitted to be a 
governess or a typewriter. So it's Hobson's choice, and you'd better 
put your exquisite sentiments in your pocket.' 
Miss Boyd, by one accident after another, had never seen Arthur, 
but she had heard so much that she looked upon him already as an 
old friend. She admired him for his talent and strength of character 
as much as for his loving tenderness to Margaret. She had seen 
portraits of him, but Margaret said he did not photograph well. She 
had asked if he was good-looking. 

---

'No, I don't think he is,' answered Margaret, 'but he's very 
paintable.' 
'That is an answer which has the advantage of sounding well and 
meaning nothing,' smiled Susie. 
She believed privately that Margaret's passion for the arts was a not 
unamiable pose which would disappear when she was happily 
married. To have half a dozen children was in her mind much more 
important than to paint pictures. Margaret's gift was by no means 
despicable, but Susie was not convinced that callous masters would 
have been so enthusiastic if Margaret had been as plain and old as 
herself. 
Miss Boyd was thirty. Her busy life had not caused the years to pass 
easily, and she looked older. But she was one of those plain women 
whose plainness does not matter. A gallant Frenchman had to her 
face called her a