They considered Ingeborg's behaviour forward. She ought not to have spoken first. Impossible on a Dent's Tour not to make friends—indeed the social side of these excursions is the most important—but there are rules. The other end of the carriage had observed the rules. The two ladies hoped they had not joined anything not quite high-toned. The other end had carried out the rules with rigid savoir-vivre; had accidentally touched and trodden on; had apologised; had had its apologies accepted; had introduced and been introduced; and so had cleared the way to chocolates.
"No?" repeated Ingeborg inquiringly.
"The aperture was there first," said the German gentleman.
"Of course," said Ingeborg, seeing he waited for her to admit it.
"And in the fulness of the ages came man, and mechanically shut it."
"Yes," said Ingeborg. "But—"
"Consequently, the function of windows is to shut apertures."
"Yes. But—"
"And not to open that which, without them, was open already."
"Y'es. But—"