I never saw such queer-looking people.

And the man discovered I was related to the poet, and talked to me about poetry.

Even Mary Datchet seems different in that atmosphere." "Yes, the office atmosphere is very bad for the soul," said Mr.Hilbery.
"I don't remember any offices in Russell Square in the old days, when Mamma lived there," Mrs.Hilbery mused, "and I can't fancy turning one of those noble great rooms into a stuffy little Suffrage office.

Still, if the clerks read poetry there must be something nice about them." "No, because they don't read it as we read it," Katharine insisted.
"But it's nice to think of them reading your grandfather, and not filling up those dreadful little forms all day long," Mrs.Hilbery persisted, her notion of office life being derived from some chance view of a scene behind the counter at her bank, as she slipped the sovereigns into her purse.
"At any rate, they haven't made a convert of Katharine, which was what I was afraid of," Mr.Hilbery remarked.
"Oh no," said Katharine very decidedly, "I wouldn't work with them for anything." "It's curious," Mr.Hilbery continued, agreeing with his daughter, "how the sight of one's fellow-enthusiasts always chokes one off.

They show up the faults of one's cause so much more plainly than one's antagonists.