Here, in the country stillness, in this beautiful old house sacred to sincerity of heart and mind, to aim at "smartness" would indeed have been to condemn oneself.

Instead of phrasing, she was content, as became her years, to listen; she enjoyed the feeling of natural youthfulness, of spontaneity without misgiving.
The things of life and intellect appeared in their true proportions; she saw the virtue of repose.
When she had been here a day or two, the conversation chanced to take a turn which led to her showing the autograph of Trafford Romaine; she said merely that a friend had given it to her.
"An interesting man, I should think," remarked the elder of the two sisters, without emphasis.
"An Englishman of a new type, wouldn't you say ?" fell from the other.
"So far as I understand him.

Or perhaps of an old type under new conditions." Irene, paying close attention, was not sure that she understood all that these words implied.
"He is immensely admired by some of our friends," she said with restraint.

"They compare him to the fighting heroes of our history." "Indeed ?" rejoined the elder lady.

"But the question is: Are those the qualities that we want nowadays?
I admire Sir Walter Raleigh, but I should be sorry to see him, just as he was, playing an active part in our time." "They say," ventured Irene, with a smile, "that but for such men, we may really become a mere nation of shopkeepers." "Do they?
But may we not fear that their ideal is simply a shopkeeper ready to shoot anyone who rivals him in trade?
The finer qualities I admit; but one distrusts the objects they serve." "We are told," said Irene, "that England _must_ expand." "Probably.