Well, thank goodness, it _is_ generally banished.' 'That's only because we all like to hide our heads in the sand--you who possess the privileges--and we who envy them!' 'I vow I don't possess any privileges at all,' she said, with defiance.
'You say so, because you breathe them--live in them--like the air--without knowing it,' said Fenwick, also trying to speak lightly.
Then he added, suddenly putting down his palette and brushes, while his black eyes lightened--'And so does Mr.Welby.You can see from his pictures that he doesn't know anything about common, coarse people--_real_ people--who make up the world.

He paints wax, and calls it life; and you--' 'Go on!--_please_ go on!' 'I shall only make a fool of myself,' he said, taking up his brushes again.
'Not at all.

And I praise humbug ?--and call it manners ?' He paused, then blurted out--'I wouldn't say anything rude to you for the world!' She smiled--a smile that turned all the delicate severity of her face to sweetness.

'That's very nice of you.

But if you knew Mr.Welby better, you'd never want to say anything rude to _him_ either!' Fenwick was silent.