It was so altogether simple and friendly a note that Felix felt pleased with it, thinking: 'I expressed that well!' Then Tod said: "Go ahead, old man! You've got something to say about the youngsters, haven't you ?" How on earth did he know that?
But then Tod HAD a sort of queer prescience.
"Well," he brought out with an effort, "don't you think it's a pity to embroil your young people in village troubles?
We've been hearing from Stanley--" Kirsteen interrupted in her calm, staccato voice with just the faintest lisp: "Stanley would not understand." She had put her arm through Tod's, but never removed her eyes from her brother-in-law's face.
"Possibly," said Felix, "but you must remember that Stanley, John, and myself represent ordinary--what shall we say--level-headed opinion." "With which we have nothing in common, I'm afraid." Felix glanced from her to Tod.

The fellow had his head on one side and seemed listening to something in the distance.

And Felix felt a certain irritation.
"It's all very well," he said, "but I think you really have got to look at your children's future from a larger point of view.

You don't surely want them to fly out against things before they've had a chance to see life for themselves." She answered: "The children know more of life than most young people.

They've seen it close to, they've seen its realities.