She had been that morning to take up the character of a servant, "And, of course, at half-past ten in the morning one expects to find the housemaid brushing the stairs." How odd! How unspeakably odd! But she could not explain to herself why suddenly as her aunt spoke the whole system in which they lived had appeared before her eyes as something quite unfamiliar and inexplicable, and themselves as chairs or umbrellas dropped about here and there without any reason.

She could only say with her slight stammer, "Are you f-f-fond of Aunt Eleanor, Aunt Lucy ?" to which her aunt replied, with her nervous hen-like twitter of a laugh, "My dear child, what questions you do ask!" "How fond?
Very fond!" Rachel pursued.
"I can't say I've ever thought 'how,'" said Miss Vinrace.

"If one cares one doesn't think 'how,' Rachel," which was aimed at the niece who had never yet "come" to her aunts as cordially as they wished.
"But you know I care for you, don't you, dear, because you're your mother's daughter, if for no other reason, and there _are_ plenty of other reasons"-- and she leant over and kissed her with some emotion, and the argument was spilt irretrievably about the place like a bucket of milk.
By these means Rachel reached that stage in thinking, if thinking it can be called, when the eyes are intent upon a ball or a knob and the lips cease to move.

Her efforts to come to an understanding had only hurt her aunt's feelings, and the conclusion must be that it is better not to try.

To feel anything strongly was to create an abyss between oneself and others who feel strongly perhaps but differently.