it is really that that makes him sometimes seem — ”

“Oh, rubbish! If high ideals make a young man rude, the sooner he gets rid of them the better,” said Mrs. Honeychurch, handing her the bonnet.

“Now, mother! I've seen you cross with Mrs. Butterworth yourself!”

“Not in that way. At times I could wring her neck. But not in that way. No. It is the same with Cecil all over.”

“By-the-by — I never told you. I had a letter from Charlotte while I was away in London.”

This attempt to divert the conversation was too puerile, and Mrs. Honeychurch resented it.

“Since Cecil came back from London, nothing appears to please him. Whenever I speak he winces; —