"I meant," said Cecil stiffly, "that she is going to marry me."

The clergyman was conscious of some bitter disappointment which
he could not keep out of his voice.

"I am sorry; I must apologize. I had no idea you were intimate
with her, or I should never have talked in this flippant,
superficial way. Mr. Vyse, you ought to have stopped me." And
down the garden he saw Lucy herself; yes, he was disappointed.

Cecil, who naturally preferred congratulations to apologies, drew
down his mouth at the corners. Was this the reception his action
would get from the world? Of course, he despised the world as a
whole; every thoughtful man should; it is almost a test of
refinement. But he was sensitive to the successive particles of
it which he encountered.

Occasionally he could be quite crude.

"I am sorry I have given you a shock," he said dryly. "I fear
that Lucy's choice does not meet with your approval."

"Not that. But you ought to have stopped me. I know Miss
Honeychurch only a little as time goes. Perhaps I oughtn't to
have discussed her so freely with any one; certainly not with
you."

"You are conscious of having said something indiscreet?"