Strickland had children.
"Yes; she has a boy and a girl. They're both at school."
The subject was exhausted, and we began to talk of other things.
Chapter V
During the summer I met Mrs. Strickland not infrequently.
I went now and then to pleasant little luncheons at her flat,
and to rather more formidable tea-parties. We took a fancy to
one another. I was very young, and perhaps she liked the idea
of guiding my virgin steps on the hard road of letters; while
for me it was pleasant to have someone I could go to with my
small troubles, certain of an attentive ear and reasonable
counsel. Mrs. Strickland had the gift of sympathy. It is a
charming faculty, but one often abused by those who are
conscious of its possession: for there is something ghoulish
in the avidity with which they will pounce upon the misfortune
of their friends so that they may exercise their dexterity.
It gushes forth like an oil-well, and the sympathetic pour out
their sympathy with an abandon that is sometimes embarrassing
to their victims. There are bosoms on which so many tears
have been shed that I cannot bedew them with mine.
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