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One looked down one's nose at this。 〃Then certainly I won't
play；〃 said Cecil； while Miss Bartlett； under the impression that
she was snubbing George； added： 〃I agree with you； Mr。 Vyse。 You
had much better not play。 Much better not。〃
Minnie； rushing in where Cecil feared to tread； announced that
she would play。 〃I shall miss every ball anyway； so what does it
matter？〃 But Sunday intervened and stamped heavily upon the
kindly suggestion。
〃Then it will have to be Lucy；〃 said Mrs。 Honeychurch； 〃you must
fall back on Lucy。 There is no other way out of it。 Lucy； go and
change your frock。〃
Lucy's Sabbath was generally of this amphibious nature。 She kept
it without hypocrisy in the morning； and broke it without
reluctance in the afternoon。 As she changed her frock； she
wondered whether Cecil was sneering at her； really she must
overhaul herself and settle everything up before she married him。
Mr。 Floyd was her partner。 She liked music； but how much better
tennis seemed。 How much better to run about in comfortable
clothes than to sit at the piano and feel girt under the arms。
Once more music appeared to her the employment of a child。 George
served； and surprised her by his anxiety to win。 She remembered
how he had sighed among the tombs at Santa Croce because things
wouldn't fit； how after the death of that obscure Italian he had
leant over the parapet by the Arno and said to her： 〃I shall want
to live； I tell you；〃 He wanted to live now； to win at tennis； to
stand for all he was worth in the sunthe sun which had begun to
decline and was shining in her eyes； and he did win。
Ah； how beautiful the Weald looked！ The hills stood out above its
radiance； as Fiesole stands above the Tuscan Plain； and the South
Downs； if one chose； were the mountains of Carrara。 She might be
forgetting her Italy； but she was noticing more things in her
England。 One could play a new game with the view； and try to find
in its innumerable folds some town or village that would do for
Florence。 Ah； how beautiful the Weald looked！
But now Cecil claimed her。 He chanced to be in a lucid critical
mood； and would not sympathize with exaltation。 He had been
rather a nuisance all through the tennis； for the novel that he
was reading was so bad that he was obliged to read it aloud to
others。 He would stroll round the precincts of the court and call
out： 〃I say； listen to this； Lucy。 Three split infinitives。〃
〃Dreadful！〃 said Lucy； and missed her stroke。 When they had
finished their set； he still went on reading； there was some
murder scene； and really every one must listen to it。 Freddy and
Mr。 Floyd were obliged to hunt for a lost ball in the laurels；
but the other two acquiesced。
〃The scene is laid in Florence。〃
〃What fun； Cecil！ Read away。 Come； Mr。 Emerson； sit down after
all your energy。〃 She had 〃forgiven〃 George； as she put it； and
she made a point of being pleasant to him。
He jumped over the net and sat down at her feet asking： 〃Youand
are you tired？〃
〃Of course I'm not！〃
〃Do you mind being beaten？〃
She was going to answer； 〃No；〃 when it struck her that she did
mind； so she answered； 〃Yes。〃 She added merrily； 〃I don't see
you're such a splendid player； though。 The light was behind you；
and it was in my eyes。〃
〃I never said I was。〃
〃Why； you did！〃
〃You didn't attend。〃
〃You saidoh； don't go in for accuracy at this house。 We all
exaggerate； and we get very angry with people who don't。〃
〃'The scene is laid in Florence；'〃 repeated Cecil； with an upward
note。
Lucy recollected herself。
〃'Sunset。 Leonora was speeding'〃
Lucy interrupted。 〃Leonora？ Is Leonora the heroine？ Who's the
book by？〃
〃Joseph Emery Prank。 'Sunset。 Leonora speeding across the square。
Pray the saints she might not arrive too late。 Sunsetthe sunset
of Italy。 Under Orcagna's Loggiathe Loggia de' Lanzi； as we
sometimes call it now'〃
Lucy burst into laughter。 〃'Joseph Emery Prank' indeed！ Why it's
Miss Lavish！ It's Miss Lavish's novel； and she's publishing it
under somebody else's name。〃
〃Who may Miss Lavish be？〃
〃Oh； a dreadful personMr。 Emerson； you remember Miss Lavish？〃
Excited by her pleasant afternoon； she clapped her hands。
George looked up。 〃Of course I do。 I saw her the day I arrived at
Summer Street。 It was she who told me that you lived here。〃
〃Weren't you pleased？〃 She meant 〃to see Miss Lavish；〃 but when
he bent down to the grass without replying； it struck her that
she could mean something else。 She watched his head； which was
almost resting against her knee； and she thought that the ears
were reddening。 〃No wonder the novel's bad；〃 she added。 〃I never
liked Miss Lavish。 But I suppose one ought to read it as one's
met her。〃
〃All modern books are bad；〃 said Cecil； who was annoyed at her
inattention； and vented his annoyance on literature。 〃Every one
writes for money in these days。〃
〃Oh； Cecil！〃
〃It is so。 I will inflict Joseph Emery Prank on you no longer。〃
Cecil； this afternoon seemed such a twittering sparrow。 The ups
and downs in his voice were noticeable； but they did not affect
her。 She had dwelt amongst melody and movement； and her nerves
refused to answer to the clang of his。 Leaving him to be annoyed；
she gazed at the black head again。 She did not want to stroke it；
but she saw herself wanting to stroke it； the sensation was
curious。
〃How do you like this view of ours； Mr。 Emerson？〃
〃I never notice much difference in views。〃
〃What do you mean？〃
〃Because they're all alike。 Because all that matters in them is
distance and air。〃
〃H'm！〃 said Cecil； uncertain whether the remark was striking or
not。
〃My father〃he looked up at her （and he was a little flushed）
〃says that there is only one perfect viewthe view of the sky
straight over our heads； and that all these views on earth are
but bungled copies of it。〃
〃I expect your father has been reading Dante；〃 said Cecil；
fingering the novel； which alone permitted him to lead the
conversation。
〃He told us another day that views are really crowdscrowds of
trees and houses and hillsand are bound to resemble each other；
like human crowdsand that the power they have over us is
sometimes supernatural； for the same reason。〃
Lucy's lips parted。
〃For a crowd is more than the people who make it up。 Something
gets added to itno one knows howjust as something has got
added to those hills。〃
He pointed with his racquet to the South Downs。
〃What a splendid idea！〃 she murmured。 〃I shall enjoy hearing your
father talk again。 I'm so sorry he's not so well。〃
〃No； he isn't well。〃
〃There's an absurd account of a view in this book；〃 said Cecil。
〃Also that men fall into two classesthose who forget views and
those who remember them； even in small rooms。〃
〃Mr。 Emerson； have you any brothers or sisters？〃
〃None。 Why？〃
〃You spoke of 'us。'〃
〃My mother； I was meaning。〃
Cecil closed the novel with a bang。
〃Oh； Cecilhow you made me jump！〃
〃I will inflict Joseph Emery Prank on you no longer。〃
〃I can just remember us all three going into the country for the
day and seeing as far as Hindhead。 It is the first thing that I
remember。〃
Cecil got up； the man was ill…bredhe hadn't put on his coat
after tennishe didn't do。 He would have strolled away if Lucy
had not stopped him。
〃Cecil； do read the thing about the view。〃
〃Not while Mr。 Emerson is here to entertain us。〃
〃Noread away。 I think nothing's funnier than to hear silly
things read out loud。 If Mr。 Emerson thinks us frivolous； he can
go。〃
This struck Cecil as subtle； and pleased him。 It put their
visitor in the position of a prig。 Somewhat mollified； he sat
down again。
〃Mr。 Emerson； go and find tennis balls。〃 She opened the book。
Cecil must have his reading and anything else that he liked。 But
her attention wandered to George's mother； whoaccording to Mr。
Eagerhad been murdered in the sight of God according to her
sonhad seen as far as Hindhead。
〃Am I really to go？〃 asked George。
〃No； of course not really；〃 she answered。
〃Chapter two；〃 said Cecil； yawning。 〃Find me chapter two； if it
isn't bothering you。〃
Chapter two was found； and she glanced at its opening sentences。
She thought she had gone mad。
〃Herehand me the book。〃
She heard her voice saying： 〃It isn't worth readingit's too
silly to readI never saw such rubbishit oughtn't to be
allowed to be printed。〃
He took the book from her。
〃'Leonora；'〃 he read； 〃'sat pensive and alone。 Before her lay the
rich champaign of Tuscany； dotted over with many a smiling
village。 The season was spring。'〃
Miss Lavish knew； somehow； and had printed the past in draggled
prose； for Cecil to read and for George to hear。
〃'A go