word. I had just picked up the notion that equality is good
from some book--probably from poetry, or you. Anyhow, it's
been knocked into pieces, and, like all people who are
really strong, Mr. Wilcox did it without hurting me. On the
other hand, I laugh at them for catching hay fever. We live
like fighting-cocks, and Charles takes us out every day in
the motor--a tomb with trees in it, a hermit's house, a
wonderful road that was made by the Kings of
Mercia--tennis--a cricket match--bridge--and at night we
squeeze up in this lovely house. The whole clan's here
now--it's like a rabbit warren. Evie is a dear. They want
me to stop over Sunday--I suppose it won't matter if I do.
Marvellous weather and the view's marvellous--views westward
to the high ground. Thank you for your letter. Burn this.

Your affectionate
Helen


HOWARDS END,
SUNDAY.

Dearest, dearest Meg,--I do not know what you will say:
Paul and I are in love--the younger son who only came here
Wednesday.


Chapter 2

Margaret glanced at her sister's note and pushed it over the