“Oh, no, nothing half so grand. It was a college where you get certificates that you are qualified to be a mistress in a Board school. I wish it had been Girton.”
“Do you?”—you are too good for that, he was going to add, but changed it to—“I think you were as well away. I don’t care about the Girton stamp; those of them whom I have known are so hard.”
“So much the better for them,” she answered. “I should like to be hard as a stone; a stone cannot feel. Don’t you think that women ought to learn, then?”
“Do you?” he asked.
“Yes, certainly.”
“Have you learnt anything?”
“I have taught myself a little and picked up something at the college. But I have no real knowledge, only a smattering of things.”
“What do you know—French and German?”
“Yes.”
“Latin?”