ses
instead of exaggerating the importance of sex....

"And," said Mr. Britling, in very much the tones in which a preacher
might say "Sixthly," "it is just all this Northern tendency that this
world struggle is going to release. This war is pounding through Europe,
smashing up homes, dispersing and mixing homes, setting Madame Van der
Pant playing hockey, and Andre climbing trees with my young ruffians; it
is killing young men by the million, altering the proportions of the
sexes for a generation, bringing women into business and office and
industry, destroying the accumulated wealth that kept so many of them in
refined idleness, flooding the world with strange doubts and novel
ideas...."

Section 9

But the conflict of manners and customs that followed the invasion of
the English villages by French and Belgian refugees did not always
present the immigrants as Catholics and the hosts as "Neo-European." In
the case of Mr. Dimple it was the other way round. He met Mr. Britling
in Claverings park and told him his troubles....

"Of course," he said, "we have to do our Utmost for Brave Little
Belgium. I would be the last to complain of any little inconvenience one
may experience in doing that. Still, I must confess I think you and dear
Mrs. Britling are fortunate, exceptionally fortunate, in the Belgians
you have got. My guests--it's unfortunate--the man is some sort of
journalist and quite--oh! much too much--an Atheist. An open positive
one. Not simply Honest Doubt. I'm quite prepared for honest doubt
nowadays. You and I have no quarrel over that. But he is aggressive. He
makes remarks about miracles, quite derogatory remarks, and not always
in French. Sometimes he almost speaks English. And in front of my
sister. And he goes out, he says, looking for a Cafe. He never finds a
Cafe, but he certainly finds every public house within a radius of
miles. And he comes back smelling dreadfully of beer. When I drop a
Little Hint, he blames the beer. He says it is not good beer--our good
Essex beer! He doesn't understand any of our simple ways. He's
sophisticated. The girls about here wear Belgian flags--and air their
little bits of French. And he takes it as an encouragement. Only
yesterday there was a scene. It seems he tried to kiss the Hickson girl
at the inn--Maudie.... And his wife; a great big slow woman--in every
way she is--Ample; it's dreadful even to seem to criticise, but I do so
_wish_ she would not see fit to s