“Is that your own, Cis?”
Cicely had to admit that she was quoting from the Morning Post.
Tiddy laughed at her, as usual.
“You Tories are always so extreme. Changes needn’t be violent, but they may be violent if you swells don’t climb down the pole a bit and get nearer facts as they are. That’s all. What a very horrid smell!”
Under the stronger beams of a May sun odours of pig were wafted on the breeze.
“I don’t mind the smell of pigs.”
“Does your mother ever notice it?”
“I don’t know.”
“If she kept away from her village I should understand, but she doesn’t.”
Cicely was sharp enough to explain.