“No, I can’t say that I do.” Lawrence was maddeningly amused. “Anne is a woman; she ought to know.”

“She may be a woman, but she didn’t bear Elizabeth,” Mr. Hengist snapped. “Only an exceptional spinster ought to have sole charge of a child. I don’t want to be rude about your sister, but she’s not at all exceptional.”

“I hope not,” Lawrence said, more gravely. “I detest your exceptional woman. Anne is a good woman. I have no qualms.”

“Evidently not. You don’t realise that there’s nothing more dangerous on this earth than your really good old maid.”

Lawrence looked at him very much as Elizabeth had looked, and thought what a queer chap he was.

“What an extraordinary thing to say!” he remarked. “No one could call Anne dangerous, poor old thing!”

Mr. Hengist got quite excited, and banged the arm of his chair with his fist.

“Of course she’s dangerous!” he said loudly. “All the more so because she’s Mid-Victorian! Already she’s taught Elizabeth to be careful that her skirt doesn’t get above her knees.”

“Well, I don’t see anything wrong in that,” said Lawrence, pondering it. “I don’t approve of this modern tendency to show your knees.”

“I’m not talking about her knees!” shouted Mr. Hengist.

“But you said—”

“Don’t be so damned literal, Lawrence! That’s only an example. Not that there’s anything wrong with Elizabeth’s knees. Far from it. That covering of them up is illustrative of the whole system. Cover ’em up if you like, but don’t be for ever morbidly anxious that they should be covered. It’s heading straight for a covered up mind. Mid-Victorianism. If a thing’s true it’s beastly, so don’t face it. Cover it up! Pretend it isn’t there!”

Lawrence became pompous, and crossed his legs.

“I consider that there’s too much license permitted these days in speech. When I was a boy girls didn’t—”

“Shut up. Don’t talk drivel. Supposing they didn’t? We’re progressing, aren’t we? You didn’t do the same as your father in his youth, did you?”

This was difficult to answer. Lawrence uncrossed his legs.

“Well, I still maintain that all this freedom of speech doesn’t lead to any good. I should be very sorry to think that Elizabeth was setting herself up against her elders, or talking immodestly.”

“You’re no better than a decayed turnip,” said Mr. Hengist flatly. “If a girl of Elizabeth’s age is always careful not to mention something that might be considered improper it’s a fairly sure sign that her mind’ll be a sink by the time she’s thirty—unless some man marries her and knocks the nonsense out of her.”

“Really, Hengist, I can’t see that—”