“I think I have a sense of beauty, which leads me astray if I am not careful.”
“But this is a great relief to me. I thought the present day young man was an agnostic! Isn’t agnosticism all the thing at Cambridge?”
“Nothing is the ‘thing’ at Cambridge. If a few men are agnostic there, it is for some grave reason, not because they are irritated with the way the parson says his vowels.”
Agnes intervened. “Well, I side with Aunt Emily. I believe in ritual.”
“Don’t, my dear, side with me. He will only say you have no sense of religion either.”
“Excuse me,” said Rickie, perhaps he too was a little hungry,—“I never suggested such a thing. I never would suggest such a thing. Why cannot you understand my position? I almost feel it is that you won’t.”
“I try to understand your position night and day dear—what you mean, what you like, why you came to Cadover, and why you stop here when my presence is so obviously unpleasing to you.”
“Luncheon is served,” said Leighton, but he said it too late. They discussed the beef and the moselle in silence. The air was heavy and ominous. Even the Wonham boy was affected by it, shivered at times, choked once, and hastened anew into the sun. He could not understand clever people.
Agnes, in a brief anxious interview, advised the culprit to take a solitary walk. She would stop near Aunt Emily, and pave the way for an apology.
“Don’t worry too much. It doesn’t really matter.”