"There you are," she said; "when you say you'd marry a dairymaid, do you mean--that?" She made a little movement of her head. "If you do, Cosimo, by all means marry one. When things come to _that_ pitch I don't see that anything matters very much. Marry a dairymaid, by all means, if _that's_ what you mean by marriage. But"--her laughter suddenly ceased--"don't forget, Cosimo, that there is another side to it. You'd perhaps get all that some men seem to require, and perhaps you are that kind of man, but I shouldn't have thought it. I should have planned something very different for you.... And think what you'd forego. No Societies for the study of those lovely Folk-Songs. No revival of Morrice Dancing. No bringing back the peasantry to those beautiful and rational old smock costumes. No bringing up of the standard of rustic morals to the level of that of the chaste animals. No education of the people up to an enlightened system of Land Tenure. No jolly Socialist Vans, no Pamphlets, nothing fine. Only the extortions of Landlordism and the old hateful Three--Rent, Interest, and Profits.... I'm not saying that to do all this is your work, Cosimo. I'm only pointing out that it's _somebody's_ work. I don't know Shropshire; perhaps Shropshire isn't ripe for it; but it's being done elsewhere. It attracts me. But of course that is no reason why it should attract you. I only mean that I should have said it was worth examining." Cosimo sat in the falling dusk, thrilled. What a daring and constructive brain!... And still some fools said women had no capacity for affairs! What (he wondered) would they have said could they have heard Amory as she was now--not argumentative, urging nothing, pleading nothing, with nothing to gain, quite detached and disinterested, merely anxious that, as she saw her own work before her, so others should see theirs? He rather thought they would have been silenced!...