Part Two
Chapter 9: Lucy As a Work of Art
(continued)
"My advice," put in Mrs. Honeychurch, "is to have nothing to do
with Lucy and her decayed gentlewomen at all. I know the type.
Preserve me from people who have seen better days, and bring
heirlooms with them that make the house smell stuffy. It's a
sad thing, but I'd far rather let to some one who is going up in
the world than to some one who has come down."
"I think I follow you," said Sir Harry; "but it is, as you say, a
very sad thing."
"The Misses Alan aren't that!" cried Lucy.
"Yes, they are," said Cecil. "I haven't met them but I should say
they were a highly unsuitable addition to the neighbourhood."
"Don't listen to him, Sir Harry--he's tiresome."
"It's I who am tiresome," he replied. "I oughtn't to come with my
troubles to young people. But really I am so worried, and Lady
Otway will only say that I cannot be too careful, which is quite
true, but no real help."
"Then may I write to my Misses Alan?"
"Please!"
But his eye wavered when Mrs. Honeychurch exclaimed:
"Beware! They are certain to have canaries. Sir Harry, beware of
canaries: they spit the seed out through the bars of the cages
and then the mice come. Beware of women altogether. Only let to a
man."
"Really--" he murmured gallantly, though he saw the wisdom of her
remark.
"Men don't gossip over tea-cups. If they get drunk, there's an
end of them--they lie down comfortably and sleep it off. If
they're vulgar, they somehow keep it to themselves. It doesn't
spread so. Give me a man--of course, provided he's clean."
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