committee-room. They were both at their best when serving on committees.
They did not make the mistake of handling human affairs in the bulk, but
disposed of them item by item, sharply. Caligraphy was the item before
them now, and on it they turned their well-trained brains. Charles,
after a little demur, accepted the writing as genuine, and they passed
on to the next point. It is the best--perhaps the only--way of dodging
emotion. They were the average human article, and had they considered
the note as a whole it would have driven them miserable or mad.
Considered item by item, the emotional content was minimised, and all
went forward smoothly. The clock ticked, the coals blazed higher, and
contended with the white radiance that poured in through the windows.
Unnoticed, the sun occupied his sky, and the shadows of the tree stems,
extraordinarily solid, fell like trenches of purple across the frosted
lawn. It was a glorious winter morning. Evie's fox terrier, who had
passed for white, was only a dirty grey dog now, so intense was the
purity that surrounded him. He was discredited, but the blackbirds that
he was chasing glowed with Arabian darkness, for all the conventional
colouring of life had been altered. Inside, the clock struck ten with a
rich and confident note. Other clocks confirmed it, and the discussion
moved towards its close.

To follow it is unnecessary. It is rather a moment when the commentator
should step forward. Ought the Wilcoxes to have offered their home to
Margaret? I think not. The appeal was too flimsy. It was not legal; it
had been written in illness, and under the spell of a sudden friendship;
it was contrary to the dead woman's intentions in the past, contrary to
her very nature, so far as that nature was understood by them. To them
Howards End was a house: they could not know that to her it had been
a spirit, for which she sought a spiritual heir. And--pushing one step
farther in these mists--may they not have decided even better than
they supposed? Is it credible that the possessions of the spirit can be
bequeathed at all? Has the soul offspring? A wych-elm tree, a vine, a
wisp of hay with dew on it--can passion for such things be transmitted
where there is no bond of blood? No; the Wilcoxes are not to be blamed.
The problem is too terrific, and they could not even perceive a problem.
No; it is natural and fitting that after due debate they should tear
the note up and throw it on to their d