"
"And people call you clever!" her mother scoffed. "Why, my dear child,
any slight respect which we still receive from the lower orders is based
upon their conviction that somehow or other we are, after all, made
differently from them. Sometimes they hate us for it and sometimes they
love us for it. The great thing, nowadays, however, is to cultivate and
try and strengthen that belief of theirs."
"How did you come to see this rag?" Jane enquired mildly.
"Your Aunt Somerham brought it round this morning while I was in bed,"
her mother replied. "It was a great shock to me. Also to your father.
He was anxious to come with me but is threatened with an attack of
gout."
"And what do you want to say to me about it? Just why did you bring me
that rag and show me those paragraphs?"
"My dear, I must know how much truth there is in them. Have you been
going about with this man Tallente?"
"To a certain extent, yes," Jane admitted, after a moment's hesitation.
"Chaperoned?"
"Pooh! You know I finished with all that sort of rubbish years ago,
mother.
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