urse we will,' Betty said; 'the road's much nicer, and it will
take longer and save us our fares. We never get returns, in case
anything should turn up, or we shouldn't be coming back or something.
And we'll drive by turns; what fun!'

They stayed on the shore till the sky behind the castle glowed to a soft
daffodil colour. Venables was a good companion; his limericks and his
riddles and his anecdotes were nearly as silly, nearly as devoid of all
point or relevance, as the Crevequers' own. He might have been capable,
on occasion, of exercising a more grown-up and polished wit; but when he
played with the Crevequers he admirably adapted himself to their young
comprehension. He was a person of tact, when he chose to use it. He did
not always choose. He had a habit--an insolent habit, his cousin called
it--of wearing in his manner, plain to be read by the initiated, the
shades of feeling which he merely did not think it worth while to hide
better, because he relied, with careless, supercilious confidence, on
the inapprehensiveness, the unreceptive blindness, of those with whom he
came in contact. The world was, after all, in the main stupid; his own
cleverness possibly sometimes overrated this stupidity; the swift
enlightenment of a glance, the flash of some phrase, would occasionally
rend his veil across and reveal him--even to the stupid--sitting,
amused, contemptuous, discerning, behind his flimsy screen. This
attitude, of lurking in careless concealment, his cousin characterized
as insolent.

'One should try not to insult people's intelligence more than one can
help, I suppose,' she would observe.

'Well, but when they haven't got any----Anyhow, we all do it; one's got
to in polite life,' he would aver, defending himself.

'They've mostly got some; and if one's real self sits despising and
criticizing, one's outer self has no business to be a decoy. Even if the
real self keeps quite behind the screen, it's unfair; and if it keeps
looking out, as yours does, it's insolent as well. You insult them by as
good as saying, "It's not much of a screen, but it will do for you. If
you do see behind it sometimes, it doesn't matter very much; and if the
people looking on, who know me better, see behind all the time, it
doesn't matter in the least." A screen, to be at all courteous, should
be impenetrable both to the people concerned and to the lookers-on; and
even then it's not honest--one should quite withdraw.'

'You know,