gelical tendencies that they disapproved of
everything which other people enjoyed. There were, it is true, a few
pleasant families at the other side of the county, but though they could
be counted upon for state occasions, the intervening miles forbade
anything like easy, everyday intimacy. In autumn the Raynors
entertained a succession of guests for the shooting, but for the rest of
the year Bernard discouraged house parties. He was bored by Cassandra's
friends, she was bored by his, the guests were mutually bored by each
other, what then was the use of going to trouble and expense?

As for Chumley, the nearest small township, a mile or less from the
nearest gate of the Court, from Cassandra's point of view "No-one" lived
there--literally no one, but a few dull, suburban families who gave
afternoon tea parties, gossiped about their neighbours, and wore
impossible clothes. Cassandra maintained that there was not a creature
in Chumley worth knowing, but Bernard said that was nonsense, there must
be some decent women among them, if she would only be decent in return!
Cassandra maintained that she was decent; she called on them sometimes,
and she asked them to garden parties. One could do no more.

Cassandra had been married ten years, and would be thirty on her next
birthday. When one was a girl it had seemed so impossibly dull to be
thirty. And it was; Cassandra thought it would be vastly more agreeable
to be forty, at once, and be done with it. At forty, one began to grow
stout and grey, to lie down in the afternoon, and feel interested in
committee meetings, and societies, and other people's business. At
thirty, one was still so painfully interested in oneself!

At forty, one _was_ old, looked it, felt it, acknowledged it with body
and mind... but at thirty, it was difficult to be consistently discreet.
At thirty, one _knew_ one was old; with the brain one knew it, but it
was impossible to live consistently up to the knowledge. There were
moments when one felt so extraordinarily, so incredibly young, moments
when the mirror, instead of crying shame on such folly, backed one up in
delusion, and gave back the reflection of a girl!

Cassandra thanked Providence daily for her eyes, her hair, her straight
back, and the dimple in her chin. Viewed in full, her face was a
charming oval; taken in halves it supplied two admirable profiles. The
nose leant a trifle to the left, so that was the side on which she chose