"Well," said Vicky confidingly, "I don't always feel Edwardian: in fact, practically never."
"Indeed! May I ask if helping one's mother is now thought to be an Edwardian habit?"
"Oh yes, definitely!" Vicky assured him.
"I am afraid I am sadly behind the times. Perhaps you are one of these young women who follow careers of their own?"
"It's so difficult to make up one's mind," said Vicky, shaking sugar over her melon. "Sometimes I think I should like to go on the stage, and then I think perhaps not, on account of boarding-houses, and travelling about in trains, which makes me sick. And I do rather feel that it might be awfully exhausting, living for one's art. It's a bit like having a Mission in Life, which sounds grand, but really isn't much fun, as far as I can make out."
"All striving after art, and personal careers must go to the wall," announced Mrs. Bawtry, who happened to have been silent for long enough to have overheard some part of this interchange. "The only things that count are Absolute Truth, and Absolute Love."
"Dear Connie, not absolute truth, surely?" demurred Lady Dering. "It wouldn't be at all comfortable, besides often becoming quite impossible."
"If only you would become God-controlled you'd find how easy everything is!" said Mrs. Bawtry earnestly.
"I saw a play once about speaking nothing but the truth," remarked Wally. "I remember I laughed a lot. It was very well done. Very funny indeed."
"A great many people," said Mrs. Bawtry, who had her own way of forcing any conversation back to the channel of her choosing, "think that if you belong to the Group you have to become deadly serious. But that's utterly false, and if ever you come to one of our House-Parties you'll see how jolly religion can be."