."
    "I have no side.  But my husband"--her voice softened, the chill increased--"has very little faith in the Continent, and our children have all taken after him."
    "On what grounds?  Do they feel that the Continent is in bad form?"
    Mrs. Wilcox had no idea; she paid little attention to grounds.  She was not intellectual, nor even alert, and it was odd that, all the same, she should give the idea of greatness.  Margaret, zigzagging with her friends over Thought and Art, was conscious of a personality that transcended their own and dwarfed their activities.  There was no bitterness in Mrs. Wilcox; there was not even criticism; she was lovable, and no ungracious or uncharitable word had passed her lips.  Yet she and daily life were out of focus: one or the other must show blurred.  And at lunch she seemed more out of focus than usual, and nearer the line that divides life from a life that may be of greater importance.
    "You will admit, though, that the Continent--it seems silly to speak of 'the Continent,' but really it is all more like itself than any part of it is like England.  England is unique.  Do have another jelly first.  I was going to say that the Continent, for good or for evil, is interested in ideas.  Its Literature and Art have what one might call the kink of the unseen about them, and this persists even through decadence and affectation.  There is more liberty of action in England, but for liberty of thought go to bureaucratic Prussia.  People will there discuss with humility vital questions that we here think ourselves too good to touch with tongs."
    "I do not want to go to Prussian" said Mrs. Wilcox--"not even to see that interesting view that you were describing.  And for discussing with humility I am too old.  We never discuss anything at Howards End."
    "Then you ought to!" said Margaret.  "Discussion keeps a house alive.  It cannot stand by bricks and mortar alone."
    "It cannot stand without them," said Mrs. Wilcox, unexpectedly catching on to the thought, and rousing, for the first and last time, a faint hope in the breasts of the delightful people.  "It cannot stand without them, and I sometimes think--But I cannot expect your generation to agree, for even my daughter disagrees with me here."
    "Never mind us or her.  Do say!"
    "I sometimes
