if one told them, the news would
be everywhere in no time.

"But why shouldn't it be everywhere in no time?"

"Because I settled with Cecil not to announce it until I left England. I
shall tell them then. It's much pleasanter. How wet it is! Let's turn in
here."

"Here" was the British Museum. Mrs. Honeychurch refused. If they must
take shelter, let it be in a shop. Lucy felt contemptuous, for she was
on the tack of caring for Greek sculpture, and had already borrowed a
mythical dictionary from Mr. Beebe to get up the names of the goddesses
and gods.

"Oh, well, let it be shop, then. Let's go to Mudie's. I'll buy a
guide-book."

"You know, Lucy, you and Charlotte and Mr. Beebe all tell me I'm
so stupid, so I suppose I am, but I shall never understand this
hole-and-corner work. You've got rid of Cecil--well and good, and I'm
thankful he's gone, though I did feel angry for the minute. But why not
announce it? Why this hushing up and tip-toeing?"

"It's only for a few days."

"But why at all?"

Lucy was silent. She was drifting away from her mother. It was quite
easy to say, "Because George Emerson has been bothering me, and if he
hears I've given up Cecil may begin again"--quite easy, and it had
the incidental advantage of being true. But she could not say it. She
disliked confidences, for they might lead to self-knowledge and to that
king of terrors--Light. Ever since that last evening at Florence she had
deemed it unwise to reveal her soul.

Mrs. Honeychurch, too, was silent. She was thinking, "My daughter won't
answer me; she would rather be with those inquisitive old maids than
with Freddy and me. Any rag, tag, and bobtail apparently does if she
can leave her home." And as in her case thoughts never remained unspoken
long, she burst out with: "You're tired of Windy Corner."

This was perfectly true. Lucy had hoped to return to Windy Corner when
she escaped from Cecil, but she discovered that her home existed no
longer. It might exist for Freddy, who still lived and thought straight,
but not for one who had deliberately warped the brain. She did not
acknowledge that her brain was warped, for the brain itself must assist
in that acknowledgment, and she was disordering the very instruments of
life. She only felt, "I do not love George; I broke off my engagement
because I did not love George; I must go to Greece because I do not
love George; it is more important that I should look up gods in the
dictionary