“Hullo, Serge! You going to defend our horrid, dirty town?”
“It doesn’t need me to do that. It is quite satisfied with itself. There is really something admirable about its hard, conceited pride. We don’t really belong to it, being parasitic. If we did, we should be like the rest, blinding ourselves with a tragic vanity.”
“Whether I’m a parasite or not,” rejoined Minna, “I’m going to get out of it as soon as I can.”
“So am I,” said Haslam. “I’m going to London at the end of the year. I’ve only been there once, but it is a fine place, and no mistake.”
“I’ve been there twice,” said Minna. “Mary’s been three times. Annette never. Have you been, Bennett?”
Bennett was rather taken aback at being drawn into the conversation. He was rather shy of Minna.
“No,” he said. “I’ve never been to London. My father has been. I don’t suppose I shall ever go. It’s such a long way. It must be a wonderful place. I’ve read a lot about it.”
“I don’t think they have nearly such good music as we have here . . .” Mary had waited very patiently to produce the remark which had been in her mind when she first spoke. She did so with such a flourish that she brought the conversation to an end. Serge wound it up with:
“We didn’t come into the country to talk of towns.”
“No,” said Minna. “We came to have lunch, and a very good lunch it has been.”