rstood--the soulful hour.
The ferment of the daily doings was then at its full height, and the
clamour of its conversation on the weather, and the dogs, the horses,
neighbours, cricket, golf, was mingled with a literary murmur; for the
Dennants were superior, and it was quite usual to hear remarks like
these "Have you read that charmin' thing of Poser's?" or, "Yes, I've got
the new edition of old Bablington: delightfully bound--so light." And
it was in July that Holm Oaks, as a gathering-place of the elect, was at
its best. For in July it had become customary to welcome there many of
those poor souls from London who arrived exhausted by the season, and
than whom no seamstress in a two-pair back could better have earned a
holiday. The Dennants themselves never went to London for the season.
It was their good pleasure not to. A week or fortnight of it satisfied
them. They had a radical weakness for fresh air, and Antonia, even
after her presentation two seasons back, had insisted on returning home,
stigmatising London balls as "stuffy things."

When Shelton arrived the stream had only just begun, but every day
brought fresh, or rather jaded, people to occupy the old, dark,
sweet-smelling bedrooms. Individually, he liked his fellow-guests, but
he found himself observing them. He knew that, if a man judged people
singly, almost all were better than himself; only when judged in bulk
were they worthy of the sweeping criticisms he felt inclined to pass
on them. He knew this just as he knew that the conventions, having been
invented to prevent man following his natural desires, were merely the
disapproving sums of innumerable individual approvals.

It was in the bulk; then, that he found himself observing. But with
his amiability and dread of notoriety he remained to all appearance a
well-bred, docile creature, and he kept his judgments to himself.

In the matter of intellect he made a rough division of the guests--those
who accepted things without a murmur, those who accepted them with
carping jocularity; in the matter of morals he found they all accepted
things without the semblance of a kick. To show sign of private moral
judgment was to have lost your soul, and, worse, to be a bit of an
outsider. He gathered this by intuition rather than from conversation;
for conversation naturally tabooed such questions, and was carried on in
the loud and cheerful tones peculiar to people of good breeding. Shelton
had never been able to