And you split it up and poison it all by the emphasis laid on this class pleasure.

It is a natural pleasure, you say.
Perhaps it is--the survival, perhaps, of some primitive instinct in our northern blood--but, if so, why should it be impossible for the rich to share it with the poor?
I have little plans--dreams.

I throw them out sometimes to catch Aldous, but he hardly rises to them!" "Oh! I _say_," broke in Frank Leven, who could really bear it no longer.
"Now look here, Miss Boyce,--what do you think Mr.Hallin wants?
It is just sheer lunacy--it really is--though I know I'm impertinent, and he's a great man.

But I do declare he wants Aldous to give up a big common there is--oh! over beyond Girtstone, down in the plain--on Lord Maxwell's estate, and make a _labourers'_ shoot of it! Now, I ask you! And he vows he doesn't see why they shouldn't rear pheasants if they choose to club and pay for it.

Well, I will say that much for him, Aldous didn't see his way to _that_, though he isn't the kind of Conservative _I_ want to see in Parliament by a long way.