She began to talk eagerly and cleverly, showing a very fair training in the catch words of the school, and a good memory--as one uncomfortable person at the table soon perceived--for some of the leading arguments and illustrations of a book of Venturist Essays which had lately been much read and talked of in London.
Then, irritated more and more by Lord Maxwell's gentle attention, and the interjections he threw in from time to time, she plunged into history, attacked the landowning class, spoke of the Statute of Labourers, the Law of Settlement, the New Poor Law, and other great matters, all in the same quick flow of glancing, picturesque speech, and all with the same utter oblivion--so it seemed to her stiff indignant hostess at the other end of the table--of the manners and modesty proper to a young girl in a strange house, and that young girl Richard Boyce's daughter! Aldous struck in now and then, trying to soothe her by supporting her to a certain extent, and so divert the conversation.

But Marcella was soon too excited to be managed; and she had her say; a very strong say often as far as language went: there could be no doubt of that.
"Ah, well," said Lord Maxwell, wincing at last under some of her phrases, in spite of his courteous _savoir-faire_, "I see you are of the same opinion as a good man whose book I took up yesterday: 'The landlords of England have always shown a mean and malignant passion for profiting by the miseries of others ?' Well, Aldous, my boy, we are judged, you and I--no help for it!" The man whose temper and rule had made the prosperity of a whole country side for nearly forty years, looked at his grandson with twinkling eyes.
Miss Raeburn was speechless.

Lady Winterbourne was absently staring at Marcella, a spot of red on each pale cheek.
Then Marcella suddenly wavered, looked across at Aldous, and broke down.
"Of course, you think me very ridiculous," she said, with a tremulous change of tone.

"I suppose I am.

And I am as inconsistent as anybody--I hate myself for it.