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〃Well；〃　said　he；　〃I　cannot　help　it　if　they　do　disapprove　of　me。

There　are　certain　irremovable　barriers　between　myself　and　them；

and　I　must　accept　them。〃



〃We　all　have　our　limitations；　I　suppose；〃　said　wise　Lucy。



〃Sometimes　they　are　forced　on　us；　though；〃　said　Cecil；　who　saw

from　her　remark　that　she　did　not　quite　understand　his　position。



〃How？〃



〃It　makes　a　difference　doesn't　it；　whether　we　fully　fence

ourselves　in；　or　whether　we　are　fenced　out　by　the　barriers　of

others？〃



She　thought　a　moment；　and　agreed　that　it　did　make　a　difference。



〃Difference？〃　cried　Mrs。　Honeychurch；　suddenly　alert。　〃I　don't

see　any　difference。　Fences　are　fences；　especially　when　they　are

in　the　same　place。〃



〃We　were　speaking　of　motives；〃　said　Cecil；　on　whom　the

interruption　jarred。



〃My　dear　Cecil；　look　here。〃　She　spread　out　her　knees　and　perched

her　card…case　on　her　lap。　〃This　is　me。　That's　Windy　Corner。　The

rest　of　the　pattern　is　the　other　people。　Motives　are　all　very

well；　but　the　fence　comes　here。〃



〃We　weren't　talking　of　real　fences；〃　said　Lucy；　laughing。



〃Oh；　I　see；　dearpoetry。〃



She　leant　placidly　back。　Cecil　wondered　why　Lucy　had　been　amused。



〃I　tell　you　who　has　no　'fences；'　as　you　call　them；〃　she　said；

〃and　that's　Mr。　Beebe。〃



〃A　parson　fenceless　would　mean　a　parson　defenceless。〃



Lucy　was　slow　to　follow　what　people　said；　but　quick　enough　to

detect　what　they　meant。　She　missed　Cecil's　epigram；　but　grasped

the　feeling　that　prompted　it。



〃Don't　you　like　Mr。　Beebe？〃　she　asked　thoughtfully。



〃I　never　said　so！〃　he　cried。　〃I　consider　him　far　above　the

average。　I　only　denied〃　And　he　swept　off　on　the　subject　of

fences　again；　and　was　brilliant。



〃Now；　a　clergyman　that　I　do　hate；〃　said　she　wanting　to　say

something　sympathetic；　〃a　clergyman　that　does　have　fences；　and

the　most　dreadful　ones；　is　Mr。　Eager；　the　English　chaplain　at

Florence。　He　was　truly　insincerenot　merely　the　manner

unfortunate。　He　was　a　snob；　and　so　conceited；　and　he　did　say　such

unkind　things。〃



〃What　sort　of　things？〃



〃There　was　an　old　man　at　the　Bertolini　whom　he　said　had　murdered

his　wife。〃



〃Perhaps　he　had。〃



〃No！〃



〃Why　'no'？〃



〃He　was　such　a　nice　old　man；　I'm　sure。〃



Cecil　laughed　at　her　feminine　inconsequence。



〃Well；　I　did　try　to　sift　the　thing。　Mr。　Eager　would　never　come

to　the　point。　He　prefers　it　vaguesaid　the　old　man　had

'practically'　murdered　his　wifehad　murdered　her　in　the　sight　of

God。〃



〃Hush；　dear！〃　said　Mrs。　Honeychurch　absently。　〃But　isn't　it

intolerable　that　a　person　whom　we're　told　to　imitate　should　go

round　spreading　slander？　It　was；　I　believe；　chiefly　owing　to　him

that　the　old　man　was　dropped。　People　pretended　he　was　vulgar；　but

he　certainly　wasn't　that。〃



〃Poor　old　man！　What　was　his　name？〃



〃Harris；〃　said　Lucy　glibly。



〃Let's　hope　that　Mrs。　Harris　there　warn't　no　sich　person；〃　said

her　mother。



Cecil　nodded　intelligently。



〃Isn't　Mr。　Eager　a　parson　of　the　cultured　type？〃　he　asked。



〃I　don't　know。　I　hate　him。　I've　heard　him　lecture　on　Giotto。　I

hate　him。　Nothing　can　hide　a　petty　nature。　I　HATE　him。〃



〃My　goodness　gracious　me；　child！〃　said　Mrs。　Honeychurch。　〃You'll

blow　my　head　off！　Whatever　is　there　to　shout　over？　I　forbid　you

and　Cecil　to　hate　any　more　clergymen。〃



He　smiled。　There　was　indeed　something　rather　incongruous　in

Lucy's　moral　outburst　over　Mr。　Eager。　It　was　as　if　one　should　see

the　Leonardo　on　the　ceiling　of　the　Sistine。　He　longed　to　hint　to

her　that　not　here　lay　her　vocation；　that　a　woman's　power　and

charm　reside　in　mystery；　not　in　muscular　rant。　But　possibly　rant

is　a　sign　of　vitality：　it　mars　the　beautiful　creature；　but　shows

that　she　is　alive。　After　a　moment；　he　contemplated　her　flushed

face　and　excited　gestures　with　a　certain　approval。　He　forebore　to

repress　the　sources　of　youth。



Naturesimplest　of　topics；　he　thoughtlay　around　them。　He

praised　the　pine…woods；　the　deep　lasts　of　bracken；　the　crimson

leaves　that　spotted　the　hurt…bushes；　the　serviceable　beauty　of

the　turnpike　road。　The　outdoor　world　was　not　very　familiar　to

him；　and　occasionally　he　went　wrong　in　a　question　of　fact。　Mrs。

Honeychurch's　mouth　twitched　when　he　spoke　of　the　perpetual　green

of　the　larch。



〃I　count　myself　a　lucky　person；〃　he　concluded；　〃When　I'm　in

London　I　feel　I　could　never　live　out　of　it。　When　I'm　in　the

country　I　feel　the　same　about　the　country。　After　all；　I　do

believe　that　birds　and　trees　and　the　sky　are　the　most　wonderful

things　in　life；　and　that　the　people　who　live　amongst　them　must　be

the　best。　It's　true　that　in　nine　cases　out　of　ten　they　don't　seem

to　notice　anything。　The　country　gentleman　and　the　country

labourer　are　each　in　their　way　the　most　depressing　of　companions。

Yet　they　may　have　a　tacit　sympathy　with　the　workings　of　Nature

which　is　denied　to　us　of　the　town。　Do　you　feel　that；　Mrs。

Honeychurch？〃



Mrs。　Honeychurch　started　and　smiled。　She　had　not　been　attending。

Cecil；　who　was　rather　crushed　on　the　front　seat　of　the　victoria；

felt　irritable；　and　determined　not　to　say　anything　interesting

again。



Lucy　had　not　attended　either。　Her　brow　was　wrinkled；　and　she

still　looked　furiously　crossthe　result；　he　concluded；　of　too

much　moral　gymnastics。　It　was　sad　to　see　her　thus　blind　to　the

beauties　of　an　August　wood。



〃'Come　down；　O　maid；　from　yonder　mountain　height；'〃　he　quoted；

and　touched　her　knee　with　his　own。



She　flushed　again　and　said：　〃What　height？〃



〃'Come　down；　O　maid；　from　yonder　mountain　height；

What　pleasure　lives　in　height　（the　shepherd　sang）。

In　height　and　in　the　splendour　of　the　hills？'



Let　us　take　Mrs。　Honeychurch's　advice　and　hate　clergymen　no

more。　What's　this　place？〃



〃Summer　Street；　of　course；〃　said　Lucy；　and　roused　herself。



The　woods　had　opened　to　leave　space　for　a　sloping　triangular

meadow。　Pretty　cottages　lined　it　on　two　sides；　and　the　upper　and

third　side　was　occupied　by　a　new　stone　church；　expensively

simple；　a　charming　shingled　spire。　Mr。　Beebe's　house　was　near　the

church。　In　height　it　scarcely　exceeded　the　cottages。　Some　great

mansions　were　at　hand；　but　they　were　hidden　in　the　trees。　The

scene　suggested　a　Swiss　Alp　rather　than　the　shrine　and　centre　of

a　leisured　world；　and　was　marred　only　by　two　ugly　little　villas

the　villas　that　had　competed　with　Cecil's　engagement；　having　been

acquired　by　Sir　Harry　Otway　the　very　afternoon　that　Lucy　had　been

acquired　by　Cecil。



〃Cissie〃　was　the　name　of　one　of　these　villas；　〃Albert〃　of　the

other。　These　titles　were　not　only　picked　out　in　shaded　Gothic　on

the　garden　gates；　but　appeared　a　second　time　on　the　porches；

where　they　followed　the　semicircular　curve　of　the　entrance　arch

in　block　capitals。　〃Albert〃　was　inhabited。　His　tortured　garden

was　bright　with　geraniums　and　lobelias　and　polished　shells。　His

little　windows　were　chastely　swathed　in　Nottingham　lace。　〃Cissie〃

was　to　let。　Three　notice…boards；　belonging　to　Dorking　agents；

lolled　on　her　fence　and　announced　the　not　surprising　fact。　Her

paths　were　already　weedy；　her　pocket…handkerchief　of　a　lawn　was

yellow　with　dandelions。



〃The　place　is　ruined！〃　said　the　ladies　mechanically。　〃Summer

Street　will　never　be　the　same　again。〃



As　the　carriage　passed；　〃Cissie's〃　door　opened；　and　a　gentleman

came　out　of　her。



〃Stop！〃　cried　Mrs。　Honeychurch；　touching　the　coachman　with　her

parasol。　〃Here's　Sir　Harry。　Now　we　shall　know。　Sir　Harry；　pull

those　things　down　at　once！〃



Sir　Harry　Otwaywho　need　not　be　describedcame　to　the　carriage

and　said　〃Mrs。　Honeychurch；　I　meant　to。　I　can't；　I　really　can't

turn　out　Miss　Flack。〃



〃Am　I　not　always　right？　She　ought　to　have　gone　before　the

contract　was　signed。　Does　she　still　live　rent　free；　as　she　did　in

her　nephew's　time？〃



〃But　what　can　I　do？〃　He　lowered　his　voice。　〃An　old　lady；　so　very

vulgar；　and　almost　bedridden。〃



〃Turn　her　out；〃　said　Cecil　bravely。



Sir　Harry　sighed；　and　looked　at　the　villas　mournfully。　He　had　had

full　warning　of　Mr。　Flack's　intentions；　and　might　have　bought　the

plot　before　building　commenced：　but　he　was　apathetic　and

dilatory。　He　had　known　Summer　Street　for　so　many　years　that　he

could　not　imagine　it　being　spoilt。　Not　till　Mrs。　Flack　had　laid

the　foundation　stone；　and　the　apparition　of　red　and　cream　brick

began　to　rise　did　he　take　alarm。　He　called　on　Mr。　Flack；　the

local　builder；a　most　reasonable　and　respectful　manwho　agreed

that　tiles　would　have　made　more　artistic　roof；　but　pointed　out

that　slates　were　cheaper。　He　ventured　to　differ；　however；　about

the　Corinthian　columns　which　were　to　cling　like　leeches　to　the

frames　of　the　bow　windows；　saying　that；　for　his　part；　he　liked　to

relieve　the　facade　by　a　bit　of　decoration。　Sir　Harry　hinted　that

a　column；　if　possible；　should　be　structural　as　well　as

decorative。



Mr。　Flack　replied　that　all　the　columns　had　been　ordered；　adding；

〃and　all