"I like the poor well enough in their places, but I cannot abide them when they try to step into ours." "Let women mind their proper business and leave men's alone." "I'm certainly not going to be on calling terms with my grocer's wife." "I hate these affected, posing, would-be clever books. Why can't people write in good plain English?"... Richard Hilary, a scholar and a patient man, blinded by conjugal love, had met futilities with arguments, expressions of emotional distaste with facts, trying to lift each absurd wrangle to the level of a discussion; and at last he died, leaving his wife with the conviction that she had been the equal mate of an able man. Her children had to face and conquer, with varying degrees of success, the temptation to undeceive her. "But I'm interrupting," said Mrs. Hilary. "I know you two are having a private talk. I'll leave you alone...." "No, no, mother." That was Neville, of course. "Stay and defend me from Jim's scorn." How artificial one had to be in family life! What an absurd thing these emotions made of it! Mrs. Hilary looked happier, and more settled in her chair. "Where are Kay and Gerda?" Jim asked. Neville told him "In Guildford, helping Barry Briscoe with W.E.A. meetings. They're spending a lot of time over that just now; they're both as keen as mustard. Nearly as keen as he is. He sets people on fire. It's very good for the children. They're bringing him up here to spend Sunday. I think he hopes every time to find Nan back again from Cornwall, poor Barry. He was very down in the mouth when she suddenly took herself off." "If Nan doesn't mean to have him, she shouldn't have encouraged him," said Mrs. Hilary. "He was quite obviously in love with her." "Nan's always a dark horse," Neville said. "She alone knows what she means." Jim said "She's a flibberty-gibbet. She'd much better get married. She's not much use in the world at present. Now if _she_ was a doctor ... or doing something useful, like Pamela...." "Don't be prejudiced, Jimmy. Because you don't read modern novels yourself you think it's no use their being written." "I read some modern novels. I read Conrad, in spite of the rather absurd attitude some people take up about him; and I read good detective stories, only they're so seldom good. I don't read Nan's kind. People tell me they're tremendously clever and modern and delightfully written and get very well reviewed, I daresay. I very seldom agree with reviewers, in any case. Even about Conrad they seem to me (when I read them--I don't often) to pick out the wrong points to admire and to miss the points I should criticise." Mrs. Hilary said "Well, I must say I can't read Nan's books myself. Simply, I don't think them good. I dislike all her people so much, and her style."