About Wemyss's financial position Miss Entwhistle could only judge from
appearances, for it wouldn't have occurred to him that it might perhaps
be her concern to know, and she preferred to wait till later, when the
engagement could be talked about, to ask some old friend of Jim's to
make the proper inquiries; but from the way he lived it seemed to be an
easy one. He went freely in taxis, he hired cars with a reasonable
frequency, he inhabited one of the substantial houses of Lancaster Gate,
and also, of course, he had The Willows, the house on the river near
Strorley where his wife had died. After all, what could be better than
two houses, Miss Entwhistle thought, congratulating herself, as it were,
on Lucy's behalf that this side of Wemyss was so satisfactory. Two
houses, and no children; how much better than the other way about. And
one day, feeling almost hopeful about Lucy's prospects, on the
advantages of which she had insisted that her mind should dwell, she
went round again to the widow in Chesham Street and said suddenly to
her, who was accustomed to these completely irrelevant exclamatory
inquiries from her friend, and who being wise was also incurious, 'What
can be better than two houses?'
To which the widow, whose wisdom was more ripe than comforting, replied
disappointingly: 'One.'
Later, when the marriage loomed very near, Miss Entwhistle, who found
that she was more than ever in need of reassurance instead of being, as
she had hoped to become, more reconciled, went again, in a kind of
desperation this time, to the widow, seeking some word from her who was
so wise that would restore her to tranquillity, that would dispel her
absurd persistent doubts. 'After all,' she said almost entreatingly,
'what can be better than a devoted husband?'
And the widow, who had had three and knew what she was talking about,
replied with the large calm of those who have finished and can in
leisure weigh and reckon up: 'None.'