Howards End

and must be stopped."
    Mrs. Munt did not often lose her temper, and when she did it was only to protect those whom she loved. On this occasion she blazed out. "I quite agree, sir. The thing is impossible, and I will come up and stop it. My niece is a very exceptional person, and I am not inclined to sit still while she throws herself away on those who will not appreciate her."
    Charles worked his jaws.
    "Considering she has only known your brother since Wednesday, and only met your father and mother at a stray hotel—"
    "Could you possibly lower your voice? The shopman will overhear."
    Esprit de classe—if one may coin the phrase—was strong in Mrs. Munt. She sat quivering while a member of the lower orders deposited a metal funnel, a saucepan, and a garden squirt beside the roll of oilcloth.
    "Right behind?"
    "Yes, sir." And the lower orders vanished in a cloud of dust.
    "I warn you: Paul hasn’t a penny; it’s useless."
    "No need to warn us, Mr. Wilcox, I assure you. The warning is all the other way. My niece has been very foolish, and I shall give her a good scolding and take her back to London with me."
    "He has to make his way out in Nigeria. He couldn’t think of marrying for years, and when he does it must be a woman who can stand the climate, and is in other ways—Why hasn’t he told us? Of course he’s ashamed. He knows he’s been a fool. And so he has—a downright fool."
    She grew furious.
    "Whereas Miss Schlegel has lost no time in publishing the news."
    "If I were a man, Mr. Wilcox, for that last remark I’d box your ears. You’re not fit to clean my niece’s boots, to sit in the same room with her, and you dare—you actually dare—I decline to argue with such a person."
    "All I know is, she’s spread the thing and he hasn’t, and my father’s away and I—"
    "And all that I know is—"
    "Might I finish my sentence, please?"
    "No."
    Charles clenched his teeth and sent the motor swerving all over the lane.
    She screamed.
    So they played the game of Capping Families, a round of which is always played when love would unite two members of our race. But they played it with unusual vigour, stating in so many words that Schlegels were better than Wilcoxes, Wilcoxes better than Schlegels. They flung decency aside. The man was young, the woman deeply stirred; in both a vein of coarseness was latent. Their quarrel was no more surprising than are most quarrels—inevitable at the time, incredible afterwards. But it was more than usually futile. A few minutes, and they were enlightened. The motor drew up at Howards End, and Helen, looking very pale, ran out to meet her aunt.
    "Aunt Juley, I have just had a telegram from Margaret; I—I meant to stop your coming. It isn’t—it’s over."
    The climax was too much for Mrs. Munt. She burst into tears.
    "Aunt Juley dear, don’t. Don’t let them know I’ve been so silly. It wasn’t anything. Do bear up for my sake."
    "Paul," cried Charles Wilcox, pulling his gloves off.
    "Don’t let them know. They are never to know."
    "Oh, my darling Helen—"
    "Paul! Paul!"
    A very young man came out of the house.
    "Paul, is there any truth in this?"
    "I didn’t—I don’t—"
    "Yes or no, man; plain question, plain answer. Did or didn’t Miss Schlegel—"
    "Charles, dear," said a voice from the garden. "Charles, dear Charles, one doesn’t ask plain questions. There aren’t such things."
    They were all silent. It was Mrs. Wilcox.
    She approached just as Helen’s letter had described her, trailing noiselessly over the lawn, and there was actually a wisp of hay in her hands. She seemed to belong not to the young people and their motor, but to the house, and to the tree that overshadowed it. One knew that she worshipped the past, and that the instinctive wisdom the past can alone bestow had descended upon her—that wisdom to which we give the clumsy name of aristocracy. High born she might not be. But assuredly she cared about her ancestors, and let them help her. When she saw Charles angry, Paul frightened, and Mrs. Munt in tears, she heard her ancestors say, "Separate those human beings who will hurt each other most. The rest can wait." So she did not ask questions. Still less did she pretend that nothing had happened, as a competent society hostess would have done. She said: "Miss Schlegel, would you take your aunt up to your room or to my room, whichever you think best. Paul, do find Evie, and tell her lunch for six, but I’m not sure whether we