“You think I’m mulish.”
She had interpreted Doggie’s thought, but he raised a hand in protest.
“No, no.”
“Yes, yes. Every man looks at a woman like that when he thinks her a mule or an idiot. We get to learn it in our cradles. But in spite of your superior wisdom, I know I’m right. After the war there won’t be a bit of change, really. A duke will be a duke, and a costermonger a costermonger.”
“These are extreme cases. The duke may remain a duke, but he won’t be such a little tin god on wheels. He’ll find himself in the position of a democratic country gentleman. And the costermonger will rise to the political position of an important tradesman. But between the two there’ll be any old sort of flux.”
“Did you learn all this horrible, rank socialism in France?”
“Perhaps, but it seems so obvious.”
“It’s only because you’ve been living among Tommies, who’ve got these stupid ideas into their heads. If you had been living among your social equals——”
“In Durdlebury?”
She flashed rebellion. “Yes. In Durdlebury. Why not?”