never felt that she
was of the same value to him as a first edition would be, and he talked
to her of the Elizabethans for their sake, and not for hers.

Lastly, there was Uncle John, and her heart was divided between Uncle
John and Dr. Christopher. Uncle John was a dear. He was round and fat,
with snow-white hair that had waves in it, and his face resembled that
of a very, very good-natured pig. His nose was not in the least a
Beaminster nose, being round and snub and his eyes beamed kindliness.
Rachel, although she had always loved him, had long learnt to place no
reliance upon him. His aim in life was to make it as comfortable, as
free from all vulgar squabble and dispute, as pleasant for everyone
everywhere as it could possibly be. He was a Beaminster in so far as he
thought the Beaminsters were a splendid and ancient family, and that
there was no other family to which a man might count himself so
fortunate to belong. But he was kind and pleasant about the rest of the
world. He would like everyone to have a good time, and it was vaguely a
puzzle to him that it should be so arranged that life should have any
difficulties--it would be so much easier if everything were pleasant.
When, however, difficulties did arise they must at all costs be
dismissed. There had been no time in his life when he had not been in
love with some woman or other, but the hazards and difficulties of
marriage had always frightened him too much.

He was not entirely selfish, for he thought a great deal about the
wishes and comforts of other people, but unpleasantness frightened him,
like a rabbit, into his hole. He lived the life of the "Compleat
Bachelor" at 93 Portland Place, having a multitude of friends of both
sexes, spending hours in his clubs with some of them, week-ends in
country houses with others of them, and months in delightful places
abroad with one or two of them.

He was very popular, always smiling and good-natured, and cared more for
Rachel than for anyone else in the world ... but even for Rachel he
would not risk discomfort.

There they all were, then.

Gradually they had emerged, for her, out of the mists and shadows,
arranging themselves about her as possible protections against that
horrible half-hour of hers. She soon found that, in that, at any rate,
they would, none of them, be of use to her except Uncle John. Uncle
Vincent did not count at all. Uncle Richard only counted as china or
pictures counted.

Uncle Jo