"I've no objection to nice simple tunes--indeed, I find them very helpful to my literary composition, but that kind of thing is merely like an unfortunate old dog going round on its hind legs in the rain." He began turning over the little sheets of note-paper which were scattered on the table, conveying the congratulations of their friends.
"'-- all possible wishes for all possible happiness,'" he read; "correct, but not very vivid, are they ?" "They're sheer nonsense!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Think of words compared with sounds!" she continued.

"Think of novels and plays and histories--" Perched on the edge of the table, she stirred the red and yellow volumes contemptuously.

She seemed to herself to be in a position where she could despise all human learning.

Terence looked at them too.
"God, Rachel, you do read trash!" he exclaimed.