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Updated: May 16, 2025
Then Freddy said: "Lucy, what's Emerson like?" "I saw him in Florence," said Lucy, hoping that this would pass for a reply. "Is he the clever sort, or is he a decent chap?" "Ask Cecil; it is Cecil who brought him here." "He is the clever sort, like myself," said Cecil. Freddy looked at him doubtfully. "How well did you know them at the Bertolini?" asked Mrs. Honeychurch. "Oh, very slightly.
"I wrote to Miss Teresa a few days ago she was wondering how often the butcher called, and my reply of once a month must have impressed her favourably. They are coming. I heard from them this morning. "I shall hate those Miss Alans!" Mrs. Honeychurch cried. "Just because they're old and silly one's expected to say 'How sweet! I hate their 'if'-ing and 'but'-ing and 'and'-ing.
She moved across the lawn and smiled in at them, just as if she was going to ask them to play tennis. Then she saw her brother's face. Her lips parted, and she took him in her arms. He said, "Steady on!" "Not a kiss for me?" asked her mother. Lucy kissed her also. "Would you take them into the garden and tell Mrs. Honeychurch all about it?" Cecil suggested. "And I'd stop here and tell my mother."
But perhaps he will come out and join you later on." "Or does his work keep him in London?" said Miss Teresa, the more acute and less kindly of the two sisters. "However, we shall see him when he sees you off. I do so long to see him." "No one will see Lucy off," interposed Mrs. Honeychurch. "She doesn't like it." "No, I hate seeings-off," said Lucy. "Really? How funny!
Honeychurch, which is, I believe, a social blunder, but it pleased her, and she introduced Cecil rather indiscriminately to some stuffy dowagers. At tea a misfortune took place: a cup of coffee was upset over Lucy's figured silk, and though Lucy feigned indifference, her mother feigned nothing of the sort but dragged her indoors to have the frock treated by a sympathetic maid.
She was determined to take Lucy herself, her head not being so very bad. The clever lady then said that she was going to spend a long morning in Santa Croce, and if Lucy would come too, she would be delighted. "I will take you by a dear dirty back way, Miss Honeychurch, and if you bring me luck, we shall have an adventure."
Beebe, have you heard the news?" Freddy, now full of geniality, whistled the wedding march. Youth seldom criticizes the accomplished fact. "Indeed I have!" he cried. He looked at Lucy. In her presence he could not act the parson any longer at all events not without apology. "Mrs. Honeychurch, I'm going to do what I am always supposed to do, but generally I'm too shy.
"By-the-by I never told you. I had a letter from Charlotte while I was away in London." This attempt to divert the conversation was too puerile, and Mrs. Honeychurch resented it. "Since Cecil came back from London, nothing appears to please him. Whenever I speak he winces; I see him, Lucy; it is useless to contradict me.
"It's part of his ideals it is really that that makes him sometimes seem " "Oh, rubbish! If high ideals make a young man rude, the sooner he gets rid of them the better," said Mrs. Honeychurch, handing her the bonnet. "Now, mother! I've seen you cross with Mrs. Butterworth yourself!" "Not in that way. At times I could wring her neck. But not in that way. No. It is the same with Cecil all over."
To one who loves the Florence of Dante and Savonarola there is something portentous in such desecration portentous and humiliating." "Humiliating indeed," said Miss Bartlett. "Miss Honeychurch happened to be passing through as it happened. She can hardly bear to speak of it." She glanced at Lucy proudly. "And how came we to have you here?" asked the chaplain paternally.
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