oks. Not books that you can talk about afterwards. Cecil
is teaching Lucy Italian, and he says her playing is wonderful. There
are all kinds of things in it that we have never noticed. Cecil says--"
"What on earth are those people doing upstairs? Emerson--we think we'll
come another time."
George ran down-stairs and pushed them into the room without speaking.
"Let me introduce Mr. Honeychurch, a neighbour."
Then Freddy hurled one of the thunderbolts of youth. Perhaps he was shy,
perhaps he was friendly, or perhaps he thought that George's face wanted
washing. At all events he greeted him with, "How d'ye do? Come and have
a bathe."
"Oh, all right," said George, impassive.
Mr. Beebe was highly entertained.
"'How d'ye do? how d'ye do? Come and have a bathe,'" he chuckled.
"That's the best conversational opening I've ever heard. But I'm afraid
it will only act between men. Can you picture a lady who has been
introduced to another lady by a third lady opening civilities with 'How
do you do? Come and have a bathe'? And yet you will tell me that the
sexes are equal."
"I tell you that they shall be," said Mr. Emerson, who had been slowly
descending the stairs. "Good afternoon, Mr. Beebe. I tell you they shall
be comrades, and George thinks the same."
"We are to raise ladies to our level?" the clergyman inquired.
"The Garden of Eden," pursued Mr. Emerson, still descending, "which you
place in the past, is really yet to come. We shall enter it when we no
longer despise our bodies."
Mr. Beebe disclaimed placing the Garden of Eden anywhere.
"In this--not in other things--we men are ahead. We despise the body
less than women do. But not until we are comrades shall we enter the
garden."
"I say, what about this bathe?" murmured Freddy, appalled at the mass of
philosophy that was approaching him.
"I believed in a return to Nature once. But how can we return to
Nature when we have never been with her? To-day, I believe that we must
discover Nature. After many conquests we shall attain simplicity. It is
our heritage."
"Let me introduce Mr. Honeychurch, whose sister you will remember at
Florence."
"How do you do? Very glad to see you, and that you are taking George for
a bathe. Very glad to hear that your sister is going to marry. Marriage
is a duty. I am sure that she will be happy, for we know Mr. Vyse, too.
He has been most kind. He met us by chance in the National Gallery, and
arranged everything a
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