Part Two
Chapter 8: Medieval
(continued)
"No," said Mrs. Honeychurch, with the air of one who has
considered the subject, "I shall not keep quiet. You know all
that has passed between them in Rome; you know why he is down
here, and yet you deliberately insult him, and try to turn him
out of my house."
"Not a bit!" he pleaded. "I only let out I didn't like him. I
don't hate him, but I don't like him. What I mind is that he'll
tell Lucy."
He glanced at the curtains dismally.
"Well, I like him," said Mrs. Honeychurch. "I know his mother;
he's good, he's clever, he's rich, he's well connected--Oh, you
needn't kick the piano! He's well connected--I'll say it again if
you like: he's well connected." She paused, as if rehearsing her
eulogy, but her face remained dissatisfied. She added: "And he
has beautiful manners."
"I liked him till just now. I suppose it's having him spoiling
Lucy's first week at home; and it's also something that Mr. Beebe
said, not knowing."
"Mr. Beebe?" said his mother, trying to conceal her interest. "I
don't see how Mr. Beebe comes in."
"You know Mr. Beebe's funny way, when you never quite know what
he means. He said: 'Mr. Vyse is an ideal bachelor.' I was very
cute, I asked him what he meant. He said 'Oh, he's like me--
better detached.' I couldn't make him say any more, but it set me
thinking. Since Cecil has come after Lucy he hasn't been so
pleasant, at least--I can't explain."
"You never can, dear. But I can. You are jealous of Cecil because
he may stop Lucy knitting you silk ties."
The explanation seemed plausible, and Freddy tried to accept it.
But at the back of his brain there lurked a dim mistrust. Cecil
praised one too much for being athletic. Was that it? Cecil made
one talk in one's own way. This tired one. Was that it? And Cecil
was the kind of fellow who would never wear another fellow's cap.
Unaware of his own profundity, Freddy checked himself. He must be
jealous, or he would not dislike a man for such foolish reasons.
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