“They needn’t be,” said Cecily.
“I wonder. I wonder if most people aren’t a little too coarse grained to like a place like this.”
They were talking of the convent, but Cecily felt an implied criticism of herself.
“Most people prefer High Schools, you think.”
“Most people are the High School type now—talk a lot and pretty freely. Wasn’t it funny to see how shocked the nun got at Madeline? And Madeline wasn’t saying a circumstance to most of what you hear. Most people are a little broad and most women pretty used to having men around, knowing a lot of them easily and being friendly and a bit flirtatious.”
Was she warning her, thought Cecily? Her pride rose against such a warning.
“Yet there are men who don’t like that sort of women,” she answered, a faint edge of hauteur in her voice.
Then to make up for that remark she asked Fliss if she couldn’t come home for dinner.
“We’ve a temporary supply of servants and plenty of dinner. Can’t you telephone Matthew?”
“We’ll stop for him,” said Fliss, “if you can drive home with me. Are you in your own car?”