Her brown squirrel-like eyes became
even brighter than usual. "They have never heard of Gibbon. They only
care for their pheasants and their peasants. They are great big men who
look so fine on horseback, as people must have done, I think, in the
days of the great wars. Say what you like against them--they are animal,
they are unintellectual; they don't read themselves, and they don't want
others to read, but they are some of the finest and the kindest human
beings on the face of the earth! You would be surprised at some of
the stories I could tell. You have never guessed, perhaps, at all the
romances that go on in the heart of the country. There are the people,
I feel, among whom Shakespeare will be born if he is ever born again. In
those old houses, up among the Downs--"
"My Aunt," Hirst interrupted, "spends her life in East Lambeth among
the degraded poor. I only quoted my Aunt because she is inclined to
persecute people she calls 'intellectual,' which is what I suspect Miss
Vinrace of doing. It's all the fashion now. If you're clever it's
always taken for granted that you're completely without sympathy,
understanding, affection--all the things that really matter. Oh, you
Christians! You're the most conceited, patronising, hypocritical set of
old humbugs in the kingdom! Of course," he continued, "I'm the first
to allow your country gentlemen great merits.
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