The Industrial Magnate

The sisters happened to call in a cottage in Willey Green to buy honey.
Mrs Kirk, a stout, pale, sharp-nosed woman, sly, honied, with something
shrewish and cat-like beneath, asked the girls into her toocosy, too
tidy kitchen. There was a cat-like comfort and cleanliness everywhere.

'Yes, Miss Brangwen,' she said, in her slightly whining, insinuating
voice, 'and how do you like being back in the old place, then?' Gudrun, whom she addressed, hated her at once.

'I don't care for it,' she replied abruptly.

'You don't? Ay, well, I suppose you found a difference from London. You
like life, and big, grand places. Some of us has to be content with
Willey Green and Beldover. And what do you think of our Grammar School,
as there's so much talk about?' 'What do I think of it?' Gudrun looked round at her slowly. 'Do you
mean, do I think it's a good school?' 'Yes. What is your opinion of it?' 'I DO think it's a good school.' Gudrun was very cold and repelling. She knew the common people hated
the school.

'Ay, you do, then! I've heard so much, one way and the other. It's nice
to know what those that's in it feel. But opinions vary, don't they? Mr
Crich up at Highclose is all for it. Ay, poor man, I'm afraid he's not
long for this world. He's very poorly.' 'Is he worse?' asked Ursula.