After the pair had read together, as their custom was, Mrs. Woodburn laid the Bible down and took up her knitting.
Boy pulled on her boots before the fire.
"I hope you won't marry out of your own class, Boy," said Mrs. Woodburn at last quietly. "We're humble folk, as dad says."
"I don't think I shall marry at all," replied the girl curtly. "I don't feel like it."
The mother continued on her tranquil way.
"When you marry, marry your own sort," she advised.
Boy was silent for a time.
"Isn't Mr. Silver our sort?" she asked at last, her eyes on her mother's.
Mrs. Woodburn, for all her liberal mind, was of the older generation.
"My dear," she said, "he's an Eton man."