fiction.«
    »But will you first make clear to me the characteristics of the school you
represent?«
    »It would take a long time to do that satisfactorily. I proceed on the
assumption that fiction is poetry, and that poetry deals only with the noble and
the pure.«
    »Yes,« said Cecily, as he paused for a moment, »I see that it would take too
long. You must deal with so many prejudices - such, for example, as that which
supposes King Lear and Othello to be poems.«
    Mr. Bickerdike began a reply, but it was too late; Mrs. Lessingham had
approached with some one else who wished to be presented to Mrs. Elgar, and the
novelist could only bite his lips as he moved away to find a more reverent
listener.
    It was not often that Cecily trifled in this way. As a rule, her manner of
speech was direct and earnest. She had a very uncommon habit of telling the
truth whenever it was possible; rather than utter smooth falsehoods, she would
keep silence, and sometimes when to do so was to run much danger of giving
offence. Beautiful women have very different ways of using the privilege their
charm assures them; Cecily chose to make it a protection of her integrity. She
was much criticized by acquaintances of her own sex. Some held her presumptuous,
conceited, spoilt by adulation; some accused her of bad taste and
blue-stockingism; some declared that she had no object but to win men's
admiration and outshine women. Without a thought of such comments, she behaved
as was natural to her. Where she felt her superiority, she made no pretence of
appearing femininely humble. Yet persons like Mrs. Delph, who kept themselves in
shadow and spoke only with simple kindness, knew well how unassuming Cecily was,
and with what deference she spoke when good feeling dictated it. Or again, there
was her manner with the people who, by the very respect with which they inspired
her, gave her encouragement to speak without false restraint; such as Mr. Bird,
the art critic, a grizzle-headed man with whom she sat for a quarter of an hour
this evening, looking her very brightest and talking in her happiest vein, yet
showing all the time her gratitude for what she learnt from his conversation.
    It was nearly twelve o'clock when Mrs. Travis, who had made one or two
careless efforts to draw near to Cecily, succeeded in speaking a word aside with
her.
    »I hope you didn't go to see me yesterday?