I never took Olivia to the theatre, but it was there I met her. I formed the habit now of going every Saturday night, usually alone, sometimes with George. It was George who introduced me to Olivia Nelson. She was an only child whose father, a cotton merchant, had died and left her all he had. She was not very beautiful but she was tall, very graceful, smartly dressed and attracted me at once. Olivia got interested when George said that I was a novelist. Novelists were not too common in Cornwell then, though I believe they are now as numerous as knights. Olivia adored famous people. She was delighted to meet me. It turned out that Olivia had read my books, at least some of them and she liked them. She could tell intelligently about them. She praised them and criticized them with a good deal of common sense. She discussed new plays and new books with me. She developed a habit of being wherever I was to be found. We had a few meals together at restaurants, and I discovered that I was dressing with unusual care.She was so excited and happy, so full of good conversation, that I was charmed and captivated by her company. But I couldn’t help thinking that something was wrong. There was no reason to think the worst. However, I couldn’t make myself propose to her.