You are running your head against a brick wall, and one day you will find which is the harder." Beatrice flushed, but answered her sister's attack, which was all the sharper because it had a certain spice of truth in it.
"I never expressed any such views, Elizabeth, so I do not see why you should attribute them to me.

I only said that legal proceedings breed bad blood in a parish, and that is true." "I did not say you expressed them," went on the vigorous Elizabeth; "you look them--they ooze out of your words like water from a peat bog.
Everybody knows you are a radical and a freethinker and everything else that is bad and mad, and contrary to that state of life in which it has pleased God to call you.

The end of it will be that you will lose the mistresship of the school--and I think it is very hard on father and me that you should bring disgrace on us with your strange ways and immoral views, and now you can make what you like of it." "I wish that all radicals were like Miss Beatrice," said Geoffrey, who was feeling exceedingly uncomfortable, with a feeble attempt at polite jocosity.

But nobody seemed to hear him.

Elizabeth, who was now fairly in a rage, a faint flush upon her pale cheeks, her light eyes all ashine, and her thin fingers clasped, stood fronting her beautiful sister, and breathing spite at every pore.