"The lower classes," Tietjens continued equably, "such of them as get through the secondary schools, want irregular and very transitory unions. During holidays they go together on personally-conducted tours to Switzerland and such places. Wet afternoons they pass in their tiled bathrooms, slapping each other hilariously on the backs and splashing white enamel paint about."
"You say you don't read novels," Macmaster said, "but I recognise the quotation."
"I don't read novels," Tietjens answered. "I know what's in 'em. There has been nothing worth reading written in England since the eighteenth century except by a woman. . . . But it's natural for your enamel splashers to want to see themselves in a bright and variegated literature. Why shouldn't they? It's a healthy, human desire, and now that printing and paper are cheap they get it satisfied. It's healthy, I tell you. Infinitely healthier than . . ." He paused.
"Than what?" Macmaster asked.
"I'm thinking," Tietjens said, "thinking how not to be too rude."
"You want to be rude," Macmaster said bitterly, "to people who lead the contemplative . . . the circumspect life."
"It's precisely that," Tietjens said. He quoted:
"'She walks the lady of, my delight,
A shepherdess of sheep;
She is so circumspect and right:
She has her thoughts to keep.'"
Macmaster said:
"Confound you, Chrissie. You know everything."