And a hundred yards behind them George was saying to Catherine: “I suppose woman is a few inches nearer to mother earth than man.... She is more ... primal ... no, not exactly that.... I mean elemental ... that’s the word, I think....”
“She’s got more common sense, if that’s what you mean....”
“No, I don’t mean exactly that.... Besides, is common sense such a virtue? ... The great things of the world have been done as a rule by people with uncommon sense.... No, I mean this: woman seems to know by instinct what man only learns by patient study and not always then.... Isn’t that your experience?”
“I don’t think I’ve had any experience.”
“H’m! ... the others are waiting for us at the top. I suppose they want to know what we’re going to do....”
They quickened their steps to the summit.
§ 5
They chose for lunch a quiet spot hemmed in by ferns and bushes. Catherine’s spirits soared higher and higher as the hours flew.... The sun was splashing over the hills as they came upon the red roofs of Chingford. The quantity of feeble, flippant conversation that passed amongst them was colossal. But they had had a glorious day....
“I’ll see you home,” said George, as they entered the straggling outskirts of Bockley.
“Please don’t,” replied Catherine. “It’s quite out of your way.”