The Death of the Heart - Elizabeth Bowen [119]
"Yes, that is certainly so," agreed Mr. Peppingham, safely.
Mrs. Peppingham said: "With all these social changes, I sometimes fear that's a lost art—managing men, I mean. I always feel that people work twice as well if they feel they've got someone to look up to." She flushed up the side of her neck with moral conviction and said firmly: "I'm quite sure that is true." Anna thought: These days there's something dreadful about talk; people's convictions keep bobbing to the surface, making them flush. I'm sure it was better when people connected everything of that sort with religion, and did not talk about religion at meals. She said: "I expect one thinks about that in the country more. That is the worst of London: one never thinks."
"My dear lady," said Mr. Peppingham, "thinking or not thinking, there are some things that you cannot fail to notice. Destroy tradition, and you destroy the sense of responsibility."
"Surely, for instance, in your husband's office—" Mrs. Peppingham said.
"I never go to the office. I don't think Thomas inspires hero worship, if that's what you mean. No, I don't think he'd know what to do with that."
"Oh, I don't mean hero worship. I'm afraid that only leads to dictators, doesn't it? No, what I mean," said Mrs. Peppingham, touching her pearls with a shy but firm smile and flushing slightly again, "is, instinctive respect. That means so much to the people working for us."
"Do you think one really inspires that?"
"One tries to," said Mrs. Peppingham, not looking very pleased.
"It seems so sad to have to try to. I should so much rather just pay people, and leave it at that."
Phyllis inhibited Mrs. Peppingham from any further talk about class by firmly handing the orange soufflé round. Pas Avant les Domestiques might have been carved on the Peppinghams' diningroom mantelpiece, under Honi Soit qui Mai y Pense. Mrs. Peppingham helped herself and, with a glance at Phyllis's cuff, was silent. Anna, plunging the spoon and fork into the soufflé with that frank greed one shows in one's own house when there is enough of everything, said: "Besides, I thought you said that it was instinctive. Whose instincts do you mean?"
"Respect's a broad human instinct," said Mr. Peppingham, letting one eye wander to meet the soufflé.
"Oh yes. But do you think it is still?"
The two Peppinghams' eyes, for less than a second, met. They share the same ideals, thought Anna. Do I and Thomas? Perhaps, but what ever are they? I do wish Major Brutt would say something or contradict me: the Peppinghams will start thinking he is a Red. What a misleading reputation my house has—the Peppinghams must have come here for Interesting Talk, because they feel they don't get enough of that in Shropshire. The yearnings of the County are appalling. They forget
Major Brutt has come here to get a job; they probably are offended at meeting only him. If I had asked an author, which they must have expected, things could not be more hopeless than they are now, and it might have put the Peppinghams into a better mood—besides showing Major Brutt up as the practical man. I thought that my beaux yeux should be enough to send Major Brutt and the Peppinghams into each other's arms. But these Peppinghams are not nice enough to be flattered. No, they are full of designing hardness; all they think is that I'm making use of them. Which I would do if I could, but they are impossible. They despise Major Brutt for being nicer than they are and for not having made good in their line. If he would only flush and argue, instead of just sitting. Oh dear, oh dear, I shall never sell him at all.
"You disapprove of my ideas, don't you?" she threw out to Major Brutt with a frantic summoning smile.
But he only crumbled his bread and quietly ate the crumbs. "Oh, I don't think I'd venture to. Not wholesale. I don't doubt for a moment there's a great deal in what you say." Looking kindly at her with his straight grey eyes, he added: "One reason I should like to settle down is that then I might begin to think things out for myself. Not knowing exactly what may turn up is inclined to make one a bit unsettled, and often when I've intended to have a think