I once heard old Mrs.Hope say that it doesn't matter how vulgar we are, so long as we know we are being vulgar.

But that isn't true.

It's not much fun to know you are being vulgar and not be able to help it." Mrs.Duff-Whalley gave a convulsed ejaculation, but her daughter went on.
"Sometimes I've gone in of an afternoon to see Jean, and found her darning stockings in her shabby frock, with a look on her face as if she knew some happy secret; a sort of contented, brooding look--and I've envied her.

And so I talked of all the gaieties I was going to, of the new clothes I was getting, of the smart people we know, and all the time I was despising myself for a fool, for what did Jean care! She sat there with her mind full of books and poetry and those boys she is so absurdly devoted to; it was nothing to her how much I bucked; and this fortune won't change her.

Money is nothing--" Mrs.Duff-Whalley gasped despairingly to hear her cherished daughter talking, as she thought, rank treason.
"Oh, Muriel, how you can! And your poor father working so hard to make a pile so that we could all be nice and comfortable.