ToConnie，Cliffordseemedtobecomingoutinhistruecolours：alittlevulgar，alittlecommon，anduninspired；ratherfat。IvyBolton’stricksandhumblebossinesswerealsoonlytootransparent。ButConniedidwonderatthegenuinethrillwhichthewomangotoutofClifford。Tosayshewasinlovewithhimwouldbeputtingitwrongly。Shewasthrilledbyhercontactwithamanoftheupperclass，thistitledgentleman，thisauthorwhocouldwritebooksandpoems，andwhosephotographappearedintheillustratednewspapers。Shewasthrilledtoaweirdpassion。Andhis`educating’herrousedinherapassionofexcitementandresponsemuchdeeperthananyloveaffaircouldhavedone。Intruth，theveryfactthattherecouldbenoloveaffairleftherfreetothrilltoherverymarrowwiththisotherpassion，thepeculiarpassionofknowing，knowingasheknew。
　　Therewasnomistakethatthewomanwasinsomewayinlovewithhim：
　　whateverforcewegivetothewordlove。Shelookedsohandsomeandsoyoung，andhergreyeyesweresometimesmarvellous。Atthesametime，therewasalurkingsoftsatisfactionabouther，evenoftriumph，andprivatesatisfaction。Ugh，thatprivatesatisfaction。HowConnieloathedit!
　　ButnowonderCliffordwascaughtbythewoman!Sheabsolutelyadoredhim，inherpersistentfashion，andputherselfabsolutelyathisservice，forhimtouseasheliked。Nowonderhewasflattered!
　　Connieheardlongconversationsgoingonbetweenthetwo。Orrather，itbasmostlyMrsBoltontalking。ShehadunloosedtohimthestreamofgossipaboutTevershallvillage。Itwasmorethangossip。ItwasMrsGaskellandGeorgeEliotandMissMitfordallrolledinone，withagreatdealmore，thatthesewomenleftout。’Oncestarted，MrsBoltonwasbetterthananybook，aboutthelivesofthepeople。Sheknewthemallsointimately，andhadsuchapeculiar，flameyzestinalltheiraffairs，itwaswonderful，ifjustatriflehumiliatingtolistentoher。Atfirstshehadnotventuredto`talkTevershall’，asshecalledit，toClifford。Butoncestarted，itwenton。Cliffordwaslisteningfor`material’，andhefounditinplenty。Connierealizedthathisso-calledgeniuswasjustthis：
　　aperspicuoustalentforpersonalgossip，cleverandapparentlydetached。
　　MrsBolton，ofcourse，wasverywarmwhenshe`talkedTevershall’。Carriedaway，infact。Anditwasmarvellous，thethingsthathappenedandthatsheknewabout。Shewouldhaveruntodozensofvolumes。
　　Conniewasfascinated，listeningtoher。Butafterwardsalwaysalittleashamed。Sheoughtnottolistenwiththisqueerrabidcuriosity。Afterall，onemayhearthemostprivateaffairsofotherpeople，butonlyinaspiritofrespectforthestruggling，batteredthingwhichanyhumansoulis，andinaspiritoffine，discriminativesympathy。Forevensatireisaformofsympathy。Itisthewayoursympathyflowsandrecoilsthatreallydeterminesourlives。Andhereliesthevastimportanceofthenovel，properlyhandled。Itcaninformandleadintonewplacestheflowofoursympatheticconsciousness，anditcanleadoursympathyawayinrecoilfromthingsgonedead。Therefore，thenovel，properlyhandled，canrevealthemostsecretplacesoflife：foritisinthepassionalsecretplacesoflife，aboveall，thatthetideofsensitiveawarenessneedstoebbandflow，cleansingandfreshening。
　　Butthenovel，likegossip，canalsoexcitespurioussympathiesandrecoils，mechanicalanddeadeningtothepsyche。Thenovelcanglorifythemostcorruptfeelings，solongastheyareconventionally`pure’。
　　Thenthenovel，likegossip，becomesatlastvicious，and，likegossip，allthemoreviciousbecauseitisalwaysostensiblyonthesideoftheangels。MrsBolton’sgossipwasalwaysonthesideoftheangels。`Andhewassuchabadfellow，andshewassuchanicewoman。’
　　Whereas，asConniecouldseeevenfromMrsBolton’sgossip，thewomanhadbeenmerelyamealy-mouthedsort，andthemanangrilyhonest。Butangryhonestymadea`badman’ofhim，andmealy-mouthednessmadea`nicewoman’
　　ofher，inthevicious，conventionalchannellingofsympathybyMrsBolton。
　　Forthisreason，thegossipwashumiliating。Andforthesamereason，mostnovels，especiallypopularones，arehumiliatingtoo。Thepublicrespondsnowonlytoanappealtoitsvices。
　　Nevertheless，onegotanewvisionofTevershallvillagefromMrsBolton’stalk。Aterrible，seethingwelterofuglylifeitseemed：notatalltheflatdrabnessitlookedfromoutside。Cliffordofcourseknewbysightmostofthepeoplementioned，Connieknewonlyoneortwo。ButitsoundedreallymorelikeaCentralAfricanjunglethananEnglishvillage。
　　`IsupposeyouheardasMissAllsoppwasmarriedlastweek!Wouldyouever!MissAllsopp，oldJames’daughter，theboot-and-shoeAllsopp。YouknowtheybuiltahouseupatPyeCroft。Theoldmandiedlastyearfromafall；eighty-three，hewas，an’nimbleasalad。An’thenheslippedonBestwoodHill，onaslideasthelads’admadelastwinter，an’brokehisthigh，andthatfinishedhim，pooroldman，itdidseemashame。Well，heleftallhismoneytoTattie：didn’tleavetheboysapenny。An’Tattie，Iknow，isfiveyears——yes，she’sfifty-threelastautumn。AndyouknowtheyweresuchChapelpeople，myword!ShetaughtSundayschoolforthirtyyears，tillherfatherdied。AndthenshestartedcarryingonwithafellowfromKinbrook，Idon’tknowifyouknowhim，anoldishfellowwitharednose，ratherdandified，Willcock，asworksinHarrison’swoodyard。Wellhe’ssixty-five，ifhe’saday，yetyou’dhavethoughttheywereapairofyoungturtle-doves，toseethem，arminarm，andkissingatthegate：
　　yes，an’shesittingonhiskneerightinthebaywindowonPyeCroftRoad，foranybodytosee。Andhe’sgotsonsoverforty：onlylosthiswifetwoyearsago。IfoldJamesAllsopphasn’trisenfromhisgrave，it’sbecausethereisnorising：forhekeptherthatstrict!Nowthey’remarriedandgonetolivedownatKinbrook，andtheysayshegoesroundinadressing-gownfrommorningtonight，averitablesight。I’msureit’sawful，thewaytheoldonesgoon!Whythey’realotworsethantheyoung，andasightmoredisgusting。Ilayitdowntothepictures，myself。Butyoucan’tkeepthemaway。Iwasalwayssaying：gotoagoodinstructivefilm，butdoforgoodnesssakekeepawayfromthesemelodramasandlovefilms。Anyhowkeepthechildrenaway!Butthereyouare，grown-upsareworsethanthechildren：
　　andtheoldonesbeattheband。Talkaboutmorality!Nobodycaresathing。
　　Folksdoesastheylike，andmuchbetterofftheyareforit，Imustsay。
　　Butthey’rehavingtodrawtheirhornsinnowadays，nowth’pitsareworkingsobad，andtheyhaven’tgotthemoney。Andthegrumblingtheydo，it’sawful，especiallythewomen。Themenaresogoodandpatient!Whatcantheydo，poorchaps!Butthewomen，oh，theydocarryon!Theygoandshowoff，givingcontributionsforaweddingpresentforPrincessMary，andthenwhentheyseeallthegrandthingsthat’sbeengiven，theysimplyrave：who’sshe，anybetterthananybodyelse!Whydoesn’tSwan&；Edgargivemeonefurcoat，insteadofgivinghersix。IwishI’dkeptmytenshillings!What’sshegoingtogiveme，Ishouldliketoknow？HereIcan’tgetanewspringcoat，mydad’sworkingthatbad，andshegetsvan-loads。It’stimeaspoorfolkshadsomemoneytospend，richones’as’aditlongenough。Iwantanewspringcoat，Ido，an’wheeramIgoingtogetit？Isaytothem，bethankfulyou’rewellfedandwellclothed，withoutallthenewfineryyouwant!Andtheyflybackatme：“Whyisn’tPrincessMarythankfultogoaboutinheroldrags，then，an’havenothing!
　　Folkslikehergetvan-loads，an’Ican’thaveanewspringcoat。
　　It’sadamnedshame。Princess!Bloomin’rotaboutPrincess!It’smunneyasmatters，an’cosshe’sgotlots，theygivehermore!Nobody’sgivin’
　　meany，an’I’veasmuchrightasanybodyelse。Don’ttalktomeabouteducation。It’smunneyasmatters。Iwantanewspringcoat，Ido，an’
　　Ishan’tgetit，costhere’snomunney……“That’salltheycareabout，clothes。Theythinknothingofgivingsevenoreightguineasforawintercoat——colliers’daughters，mindyou——andtwoguineasforachild’ssummerhat。AndthentheygotothePrimitiveChapelintheirtwo-guineahat，girlsaswouldhavebeenproudofathree-and-sixpennyoneinmyday。I
　　heardthatatthePrimitiveMethodistanniversarythisyear，whentheyhaveabuilt-upplatformfortheSundaySchoolchildren，likeagrandstandgoingalmostuptoth’ceiling，IheardMissThompson，whohasthefirstclassofgirlsintheSundaySchool，saythere’dbeoverathousandpoundsinnewSundayclothessittingonthatplatform!Andtimesarewhattheyare!Butyoucan’tstopthem。They’remadforclothes。Andboysthesame。
　　Theladsspendeverypennyonthemselves，clothes，smoking，drinkingintheMiners’Welfare，jauntingofftoSheffieldtwoorthreetimesaweek。
　　Why，it’sanotherworld。Andtheyfearnothing，andtheyrespectnothing，theyoungdon’t。Theoldermenarethatpatientandgood，really，theyletthewomentakeeverything。Andthisiswhatitleadsto。Thewomenarepositivedemons。Buttheladsaren’tliketheirdads。They’resacrificingnothing，theyaren’t：they’reallforself。Ifyoutellthemtheyoughttobeputtingabitby，forahome，theysay：That’llkeep，thatwill，I’mgoin’t’enjoymyselfwhileIcan。Owtelse’llkeep!Oh，they’reroughan’selfish，ifyoulike。Everythingfallsontheoldermen，an’it’sabadoutlookallround。’
　　Cliffordbegantogetanewideaofhisownvillage。Theplacehadalwaysfrightenedhim，buthehadthoughtitmoreorlessstable。Now——？
　　`IstheremuchSocialism，Bolshevism，amongthepeople？’heasked。
　　`Oh!’saidMrsBolton，`youhearafewloud-mouthedones。Butthey’remostlywomenwho’vegotintodebt。Thementakenonotice。Idon’tbelieveyou’lleverturnourTevershallmenintoreds。They’retoodecentforthat。
　　Buttheyoungonesblethersometimes。Notthattheycareforitreally。
　　Theyonlywantabitofmoneyintheirpocket，tospendattheWelfare，orgogaddingtoSheffield。That’salltheycare。Whenthey’vegotnomoney，they’lllistentotheredsspouting。Butnobodybelievesinit，really。’
　　`Soyouthinkthere’snodanger？’
　　`Ohno!Notiftradewasgood，therewouldn’tbe。Butifthingswerebadforalongspell，theyoungonesmightgofunny。Itellyou，they’reaselfish，spoiltlot。ButIdon’tseehowthey’deverdoanything。Theyaren’teverseriousaboutanything，exceptshowingoffonmotor-bikesanddancingatthePalais-de-danseinSheffield。Youcan’tmakethemserious。TheseriousonesdressupineveningclothesandgoofftothePallytoshowoffbeforealotofgirlsanddancethesenewCharlestonsandwhatnot。I’msuresometimesthebus’llbefullofyoungfellowsineveningsuits，collierlads，offtothePally：letalonethosethathavegonewiththeirgirlsinmotorsoronmotor-bikes。Theydon’tgiveaseriousthoughttoathing——saveDoncasterraces，andtheDerby：fortheyallofthembetoneveryrace。Andfootball!Butevenfootball’snotwhatitwas，notbyalongchalk。It’stoomuchlikehardwork，theysay。No，they’dratherbeoffonmotor-bikestoSheffieldorNottingham，Saturdayafternoons。’
　　`Butwhatdotheydowhentheygetthere？’
　　`Oh，hangaround——andhaveteainsomefinetea-placeliketheMikado——andgotothePallyorthepicturesortheEmpire，withsomegirl。Thegirlsareasfreeasthelads。Theydojustwhattheylike。’
　　`Andwhatdotheydowhentheyhaven’tthemoneyforthesethings？’
　　`Theyseemtogetit，somehow。Andtheybegintalkingnastythen。ButIdon’tseehowyou’regoingtogetbolshevism，whenalltheladswantisjustmoneytoenjoythemselves，andthegirlsthesame，withfineclothes：
　　andtheydon’tcareaboutanotherthing。Theyhaven’tthebrainstobesocialists。Theyhaven’tenoughseriousnesstotakeanythingreallyserious，andtheyneverwillhave。’
　　Conniethought，howextremelylikealltherestoftheclassesthelowerclassessounded。Justthesamethingoveragain，TevershallorMayfairorKensington。Therewasonlyoneclassnowadays：moneyboys。Themoneyboyandthemoneygirl，theonlydifferencewashowmuchyou’dgot，andhowmuchyouwanted。
　　UnderMrsBolton’sinfluence，Cliffordbegantotakeanewinterestinthemines。Hebegantofeelhebelonged。Anewsortofself-assertioncameintohim。Afterall，hewastherealbossinTevershall，hewasreallythepits。Itwasanewsenseofpower，somethinghehadtillnowshrunkfromwithdread。
　　Tevershallpitswererunningthin。Therewereonlytwocollieries：Tevershallitself，andNewLondon。Tevershallhadoncebeenafamousmine，andhadmadefamousmoney。Butitsbestdayswereover。NewLondonwasneververyrich，andinordinarytimesjustgotalongdecently。Butnowtimeswerebad，anditwaspitslikeNewLondonthatgotleft。
　　`There’salotofTevershallmenleftandgonetoStacksGateandWhiteover，’
　　saidMrsBolton。`You’venotseenthenewworksatStacksGate，openedafterthewar，haveyou，SirClifford？Oh，youmustgooneday，they’resomethingquitenew：greatbigchemicalworksatthepit-head，doesn’tlookabitlikeacolliery。Theysaytheygetmoremoneyoutofthechemicalby-productsthanoutofthecoal——Iforgetwhatitis。Andthegrandnewhousesforthemen，fairmansions!ofcourseit’sbroughtalotofriff-rafffromalloverthecountry。ButalotofTevershallmengotonthere，anddoin’well，alotbetterthanourownmen。TheysayTevershall’sdone，finished：onlyaquestionofafewmoreyears，andit’llhavetoshutdown。
　　AndNewLondon’llgofirst。Myword，won’titbefunnywhenthere’snoTevershallpitworking。It’sbadenoughduringastrike，butmyword，ifitclosesforgood，it’llbeliketheendoftheworld。EvenwhenIwasagirlitwasthebestpitinthecountry，andamancountedhimselfluckyifhecouldonhere。Oh，there’sbeensomemoneymadeinTevershall。Andnowthemensayit’sasinkingship，andit’stimetheyallgotout。Doesn’titsoundawful!Butofcoursethere’salotas’llnevergotilltheyhaveto。Theydon’tlikethesenewfangledmines，suchadepth，andallmachinerytoworkthem。Someofthemsimplydreadsthoseironmen，astheycallthem，thosemachinesforhewingthecoal，wheremenalwaysdiditbefore。Andtheysayit’swastefulaswell。Butwhatgoesinwasteissavedinwages，andalotmore。Itseemssoonthere’llbenouseformenonthefaceoftheearth，it’llbeallmachines。Buttheysaythat’swhatfolkssaidwhentheyhadtogiveuptheoldstockingframes。Icanrememberoneortwo。
　　Butmyword，themoremachines，themorepeople，that’swhatitlookslike!
　　Theysayyoucan’tgetthesamechemicalsoutofTevershallcoalasyoucanoutofStacksGate，andthat’sfunny，they’renotthreemilesapart。
　　Buttheysayso。Buteverybodysaysit’sashamesomethingcan’tbestarted，tokeepthemengoingabitbetter，andemploythegirls。AllthegirlstraipsingofftoSheffieldeveryday!Myword，itwouldbesomethingtotalkaboutifTevershallCollieriestookanewleaseoflife，aftereverybodysayingthey’refinished，andasinkingship，andthemenoughttoleavethemlikeratsleaveasinkingship。Butfolkstalksomuch，ofcoursetherewasaboomduringthewar。WhenSirGeoffreymadeatrustofhimselfandgotthemoneysafeforever，somehow。Sotheysay!Buttheysayeventhemastersandtheownersdon’tgetmuchoutofitnow。Youcanhardlybelieveit，canyou!WhyIalwaysthoughtthepitswouldgoonforeverandever。Who’dhavethought，whenIwasagirl!ButNewEngland’sshutdown，soisColwickWood：yes，it’sfairhauntingtogothroughthatcoppyandseeColwickWoodstandingtheredesertedamongthetrees，andbushesgrowingupalloverthepit-head，andthelinesredrusty。It’slikedeathitself，adeadcolliery。Why，whatevershouldwedoifTevershallshutdown——？Itdoesn’tbearthinkingof。Alwaysthatthrongit’sbeen，exceptatstrikes，andeventhenthefan-wheelsdidn’tstand，exceptwhentheyfetchedtheponiesup。I’msureit’safunnyworld，youdon’tknowwhereyouarefromyeartoyear，youreallydon’t。’