Chapter 33 The Day of the Visit was exquisite and the last of unclouded happiness that she was to have for many months. Her anxiety about Helen's extraordinary absence was still dormant, and as for a possible brush with Miss Savry that only gave zest to the expedition, she had also alluded Dolly's invitation to luncheon. Walking straight up from the station, she crossed the village green and entered the long Chestnut Avenue that connects it with the church. The church itself stood in the village once, but there attracted so many worshippers that the devil, in a pet, snatched it from its foundations and poised it on an inconvenient knoll three quarters of a mile away. If this story is true, the Chestnut Avenue must have been planted by the angels. No more tempting approach could be imagined for the lukewarm Christian, and if he still finds the walk too long, the devil is defeated all the same, science having built Holy Trinity. A chapel of ease near the Charles and roofed it with tin. Up the avenue, Margaret strolled slowly, stopping to watch the sky that gleamed through the upper branches of the Chestnuts or to finger the little horseshoes on the lower branches. Why has not England a great mythology? Our folklore has never advanced beyond daintiness, and the greater melodies about our countryside have all issued through the pipes of grease. Deep and true, as the native imagination can be, it seems to have failed here. It has stopped from the witches and the fairies. It cannot fibbify one fraction of the summer field, or give names to half a dozen stars. England still waits for the supreme moment of her literature, for the great poet who shall voice her, or better still, for the thousand little poets whose voices shall pass into our common talk. At the church the scenery changed, the Chestnut Avenue opened into a road, smooth but narrow, which led into the untouched country. She followed it for over a mile. Its little hesitations pleased her, having no urgent destiny. It strolled downhill or up as it wished, taking no trouble about their gradients or about the view, which nevertheless expanded. The great estates that throttled the south of Herod Pitchire were less obtrusive here, and the appearance of the land was neither aristocratic nor suburban. To define it was difficult, but Margaret knew that it was not, it was not snobbish. Though its contours were slight, there was a touch of freedom in their sweet to which sorry will never attain, and the distant brow of the children's towered like a mountain. Left to itself was Margaret's opinion, this country would vote liberal. The comradeship not passionate, that is our highest gift as an ocean, was promised by it, as by the low brick farm where she called for the key. But the inside of the farm was disappointing, a most finished young person received her. Yes Mrs Wilcox, no Mrs Wilcox, oh yes Mrs Wilcox, and he received your letter quite duly. Aunty is going up to your little place at the present moment, shall I send the servant to direct you, followed by, of course Aunty does not generally look after your place, she only does it to oblige a neighbour as something exceptional. It gives her something to do, she spends quite a lot of her time there, my husband says to me sometimes, where's Aunty, I say, need you ask, she's at Howard's End, yes Mrs Wilcox, Mrs Wilcox, could I prevail upon you to accept a piece of cake, not if I cut it for you. Margaret refused the cake, but unfortunately this acquired her gentility in the eyes of Miss Avery's niece.  Now roguishly, Mrs Wilcox, don't you move while I am gone. Stunned, Margaret did not move from the best parlor, over which the touch of art no there had fallen, but the other rooms looked in keeping, though they conveyed the peculiar sadness of a rural interior, here had lived an elder race, to which we look back with disquietude. The country which we visit at weekends was really a home to it, and the gravestides of life, the deaths, the partings, the yearnings for love, had their deepest expression in the heart of the fields. Always not sadness, the sun was shining without, the thrush sung his two syllables on the budding gulder rose, some children were playing uproariously in heaps of golden straw, it was the presence of sadness at all that surprised Margaret, and ended by giving her a feeling of completeness. In these English farms, if anywhere, one might see life steadily, and see it whole, group in one vision, its transitoriness, and its eternal youth, connect, connect without bitterness until all men are brothers, but her thoughts were interrupted by the return of Miss Avery's niece, and were so tranquilizing that she suffered the interruption gladly. It was quicker to go out by the back door, and after due explanations, they went out by it. The niece was now mortified by unumerable chickens, who rushed up to her feet for food, and by shameless and maternal sale. She did not know what animals were coming to, but her gentility withered at the touch of the sweet air. The wind was rising, scattering the straw, and ruffling the tails of the ducks, as they floated in families over Evie's pendant. One of those delicious gales of spring, in which leaves stick in buds seemed to rustle, swept over the land, and then fell silent. Georgia sung the thrush. Cuckoo came furtively from the clip of pine trees. Georgia, pretty Georgia, and the other birds joined in with nonsense. The hedge was a half-painted picture, which would be finished in a few days. Saladines grew on its banks, lords and ladies, and primroses in the defended hollows. The wild rose bushes, still bearing their withered hips, showed also the promise of blossom. Spring had come, clad in no classical garb, yet fairer than all springs, fairer even than she who walks through the myrtles of Tuscany, with the graces before her and the zephyr behind.  Thus engaged they reached howards end. The children cries of auntie severed the air. There was no reply, and the front door was locked. Are you sure that Miss Avery is up here? Asked Margaret. Oh, yes, Mrs. Wilcox. Quite sure. She is here daily. Margaret tried to look in through the dining room window, but the curtain inside was drawn tightly, so with the door-in-room and the hall. The appearance of these curtains was familiar, yet she did not remember them being there on her other visit. Her impression was that Mr. Brice had taken everything away. They tried the back. Here again they received no answer and could see nothing. The kitchen window was fitted with the blind, while the pantry and scullery had pieces of wood propped up against them, which looked ominously like the lids of hacking cases. Margaret thought of her books, and she lifted up her voice also. At the first cry she succeeded. Well, well replied someone inside the house. If it isn't, Mrs. Wilcox come at last. Have you got the key, auntie? Madge, go away, said Miss Avery, still invisible. Auntie, it's Mrs. Wilcox. Margaret supported her. Your niece and I have come together. Madge, go away. This is no moment for your hat. The poor woman went red. Auntie gets more eccentric lately, she said nervously. Miss Avery called Margaret. I have come about the furniture. Could you kindly let me in? Yes, Mrs. Wilcox said the voice. Of course. But after that came silence. They called again without response. They walked round the house disconsolently. I hope Miss Avery is not ill, hazarded Margaret. Well, if you'll excuse me, said Madge. Perhaps I ought to be leaving you now. The servants need seeing too at the farm. Auntie is so odd at times. Gathering up her elegancies, she retired, defeated, and, as if her departure had loosed a spring, the front door opened at once. Miss Avery said, well, come right in, Mrs. Wilcox, quite pleasantly and calmly. Thank you so much, young Margaret, but broke off at the sight of a numberlla stand. It was her own. Come right in to the hall first, said Miss Avery. She drew the curtain and Margaret uttered a cry of despair. For an appalling thing had happened. The hall was fitted up with the contents of the library from Wiccan Place. The carpet had been laid. The big work table drawn up near the window. The bookcases filled the wall opposite the fireplace. And her father's sword, this is what bewildered her particularly, had been drawn from its scabbard and hung naked amongst the sober volumes. Miss Avery must have worked for days. I'm afraid this isn't what we meant, she began. Miss Wilcox and I never intended the cases to be touched. For instance, these books are my brothers. We are storing them for him and for my sister, who is abroad. When you kindly undertook to look after things, we never expected you to do so much. The house has been empty long enough, said the old woman. Margaret refused to argue. I daresay we didn't explain, she said civilly. It has been a mistake and very likely our mistake. Mrs Wilcox, it has been mistake upon mistake for fifty years. The house is Mrs Wilcox's and she would not desire it to stand empty any longer. To help the poor, decaying brain, Margaret said. Yes, Mrs Wilcox's house, the mother of Mr Charles. Mistake upon mistake, said Miss Avery. Mistake upon mistake. Well, I don't know, said Margaret, sitting down in one of her own chairs. I really don't know what to be done, she could not help laughing. The other said, yes, it should be a merry house enough. I don't know, I daresay. Well, thank you very much, Miss Avery. Yes, that's all right, delightful. There is still the parlour, she went through the door opposite and drew a curtain. Light flooded the drawing room and the drawing room furniture from Wiccan Place and the dining room. More curtains were drawn, more windows were flung open to the spring. Then through here, Miss Avery continued, passing and repassing through the hall. Her voice was lost, but Margaret heard her pulling up the kitchen blind. I've not finished here yet, she announced, returning. There's still a deal to do. The farmlands will carry your great wardrobes upstairs, for there is no need to go into expense at Hilton. It is all a mistake, repeated Margaret, feeling that she must put her foot down. A misunderstanding, Mr Wilcox and I are not going to live at Howard's Inn. Oh, indeed, on account of his hay fever. We have settled to build a new home for ourselves in Sussex, and part of this furniture, my part, will go down there presently. She looked at Miss Avery intently, trying to understand the kink in her brain. Here was no maundering of woman. Her wrinkles were shrewd and humorous. She looked capable of scathing wit and also of high but unastentatious nobility. You think that you won't come back to live here, Mrs Wilcox, but you will. That remains to be seen, said Margaret, smiling. We have no intention of doing so for the present. We happen to need a much larger house. Circumstances oblige us to give big parties. Of course, someday, one never knows, does one. Miss Avery retorted, someday, tata, don't talk about someday. You are living here now, am I? You are living here and have been for the last ten minutes, if you ask me. It was a senseless remark, but with a queer feeling of disloyalty, Margaret rose from her chair. She felt that Henry had been obscurely censored. They went into the dining room, where the sunlight poured in upon her mother's chippenay. And upstairs were many an old god peeped from a new niche. The furniture fitted extraordinarily well. In the central room over the hall, the room that Helen had slept in four years ago, Miss Avery had placed Tibi's old bassinet. The nursery, she said. Margaret turned away without speaking. At last everything was seen. The kitchen and lobby were still stacked with furniture and straw. But as far as she could make out, nothing had been broken or scratched.  Then they took a friendly stroll in the garden. It had gone wild since her last visit. The gravel sweep was weedy and grass had sprung up at the very jaws of the garage. And Evey's rockery was only bumps. Perhaps Evey was responsible for Miss Avery's oddness. But Margaret suspected that the cause lay deeper and that the girl's silly letter had but loosed the irritation of years. It's a beautiful meadow, she remarked. It was one of those open-air drawing rooms that had been formed hundreds of years ago, out of the smaller fields. So the boundary hedge zigzagged down the hill at right angles. And at the bottom there was a little green annex, a sort of powder closet for the cows. Yes, the maid is well enough, said Miss Avery, for those that is who don't suffer from sneezing. And she cackled maliciously. I've seen Charlie Wilcox go out to my lads in hay time. Oh, they ought to do this. They mustn't do that. He'd learn them to be lads. And just then, the tickling took him. He has it from his father, with other things. There's not one Wilcox that can stand up against a field in June. I laughed fit to burst while he was caught in Ruth. My brother gets hay fever too, said Margaret. This house lies too much on the lane for them. Naturally, they were glad enough to slip in at first, but Wilcox is a better than nothing, as I see you've found. Margaret laughed. They keep the place going, don't they? Yes, it is just that. They keep England going. It is my opinion. But Miss Avery upset her by replying, ah, they breed like rabbits. Well, well, it's a funny wool. But he, who made it, knows what he wants in it, I suppose. If Mrs Charlie is expecting her forth, it isn't for us to repine. They breed, and they also work, said Margaret, conscience of some invitation to disloyalty, which was echoed by the very breeze and by the songs of the birds. It certainly is a funny wool, but so long as men, like my husband, any son's governor, I think it will never be a bad one, never really bad. No better than nothing, said Miss Avery, and turned to the witch elm. On their way back to the farm, she spoke of her old friend much more clearly than before. In the house, Margaret had wondered whether she quite distinguished the first wife from the second. Now she said, I never saw much of Ruth after her grandmother died, but we stayed civil. It was a very civil family. Old Mrs Howard never spoke against anybody, nor let anyone be turned away without food. Then it was never trespasses will be prosecuted in their land, but would people please not come in? Mrs Howard was never created to run a farm. Had they no men to help them, Margaret asked. Miss Avery replied, things went on until there were no men. Until Mr Wilcox came along, corrected Margaret, anxious that her husband should receive his dues. I suppose so, that Ruth should have married no disrespect to you to say this, for I take it you were intended to get Wilcox anyway, whether she got him first or no. Whom should she have married? A soldier exclaimed the old woman, some real soldier. Margaret was silent. It was a criticism of Henry's character, far more trenchant than any of her own. She felt dissatisfied. But that's all over, she went on. A better time is coming now, though you've kept me long enough waiting. In a couple of weeks I'll see your lights shining through the hedge of an evening. Have you ordered in coals? We are not coming, said Margaret firmly. She respected Miss Avery too much to humour her. No, not coming, never coming. It has all been a mistake. The furniture must be repacked at once, and I am very sorry, but I am making other arrangements, and must ask you to give me the keys. Certainly Mrs Wilcox said Miss Avery, and she resigned her duties with a smile. Relieved at this conclusion, and having sent her compliments to Madge, Margaret walked back to the station. She had intended to go to the furniture warehouse and give directions for removal, but the muddle had turned out more extensive than she expected, so she decided to consult Henry. It was as well that she did this. He was strongly against employing the local man whom he had previously recommended and advised her to store in London after all. But before this could be done an unexpected trouble fell upon her. End of Chapter 33 She had scarcely promised her niece to really take my tiresome chest in hand when she caught a chill and developed acute pneumonia. Margaret and Tibi went down to Swanage. Helen was telegraphed for, and that spring party that after all gathered in that hospitable house had all the pathos of fair memories. On a perfect day when the sky seemed blue porcelain and the waves of the discreet little bay beat gentlest of tattoos upon the sand, Margaret hurried up through the road of dendrons, confronted again by the senselessness of death. One death may explain itself, but it throws no light upon another. The groping inquiry must begin anew. Preachers or scientists may generalize, but we know no generality is possible about those whom we love. Not one heaven awaits them, not even one oblivion. Aunt Julie, incapable of tragedy, slipped out of life with odd little laughs and apologies for having stopped in it so long. She was very weak. She could not rise to the occasion or realize the great mystery which all agree must await her. It only seemed to her that she was quite done up, more done up than ever before, that she saw and heard and felt less every moment, and that unless something changed she would soon feel nothing. Her spare strength she devoted to plans could not Margaret take some steamer expeditions, were mackerel cooked as Tibi liked them. She worried herself about Helen's absence and also that she could be the cause of Helen's return. The nurses seemed to think such interest quite natural, and perhaps hers was an average approach to the Great Gate. But Margaret saw death stripped of any false romance. Whatever the idea of death may contain, the process can be trivial and hideous. Important, Margaret dear, take the lull worth when Helen comes. Helen won't be able to stop Aunt Julie. She has telegraphed that she can only get away just to see you. She must go back to Germany as soon as you are well. How very odd of Helen, Mr. Wilcox. Yes, dear? Can he spare you? Henry wished her to come and had been very kind. Yet again Margaret said so. Mrs. Munt did not die. Quite outside her will a more dignified power took hold of her and checked her on the downward slope. She returned without emotion, as fidgety as ever. On the fourth day she was out of danger. Margaret, important, it went on. I should like you to have some companion to take walks with. Do try Miss Condor. I have been a little walk with Miss Condor. But she is not really interesting if only you had Helen. I have Tibi and Julie. No, but he has to do his Chinese. Some real companion is what you need. Really, Helen is odd. Helen is odd, very, agreed Margaret. Not content with going abroad, why does she want to go back there at once? No doubt she will change her mind when she sees us. She has not the least balance. That was the stock criticism about Helen, but Margaret's voice trembled as she made it. By now she was deeply pained at her sister's behavior. It may be unbalanced to fly out of England, but to stop away eight months argues that the heart is a rye, as well as the head. A sick bed could recall Helen, but she was deaf to more human calls. After a glimpse at her aunt, she would retire into her nebulous life behind some post-restaurant. She scarcely existed. Her letters had become dull and infrequent. She had no wants and no curiosity, and it was all put down to poor Henry's account. Henry, long pardoned by his wife, was still too infamous to be greeted by his sister-in-law. It was morbid, and to her alarm Margaret fancied that she could trace the growth of morbidity back in Helen's life for nearly four years. The flight from Anatan, the unbalanced patronage of the Bass, the explosion of grief up on the Downs, all connected with Paul, an insignificant boy whose lips had kissed hers for a fraction of time. Margaret and Mrs. Wilcox had feared that they might kiss again. Foolishly, the real danger was reaction. Reaction against the Wilcoxes had eaten into her life until she was scarcely sane. At twenty-five she had an e-day fix. What hope was there for her as an old woman? The more Margaret thought about it, the more alarmed she became. For many months she had put the subject away, but it was too big to be slighted now. There was almost a taint of madness. Were all Helen's actions to be governed by a tiny mishap, such as may happen to any young man or woman? Can human nature be constructed online so insignificant? The blundering little encounter at Howard's End was vital. It propagated itself for evergraver intercourse lay barren. It was stronger than sisterly intimacy, stronger than reason or books. In one of her moods, Helen had confessed that she still enjoyed it in a certain sense. Paul had faded, but the magic of his caress endured. And where there is enjoyment of the past there may also be reaction, propagation at both ends. Well, it is odd and sad that our minds should be such seed beds, and we without power to choose the seed. But man is an odd, sad creature as yet, intent on pilfering the earth, and heedless of the gross within himself. He cannot be bored about psychology. He leaves it to the specialist, which is as if he should leave his dinner to be eaten by a steam engine. He cannot be bothered to digest his own soul. Margaret and Helen have been more patient, and it is suggested that Margaret has succeeded so far as success is yet possible. She does understand herself. She has some rudimentary control over her own growth. Whether Helen has succeeded, one cannot say. The day that Mrs. Munt rallied, Helen's letter arrived. She had posted it at Munich and would be in London herself on the morrow. It was a disquieting letter, though the opening was affectionate and sane. Dearest Meg, give Helen's love to Aunt Julie, tell her that I love and have loved her ever since I can remember. I shall be in London Thursday. My address will be care of the bankers. I have not yet settled on a hotel, so write or wire to me there and give me detailed news. If Aunt Julie's is much better, or if for a terrible reason it would be no good my coming down to Swanage, you must not think it odd if I do not come. I have all sorts of plans in my head. I am living abroad at present and want to get back as quickly as possible. Will you please tell me where our furniture is? I should like to take out one or two books. The rest are for you. Forgive me, dearest Meg. This must read like rather a tiresome letter, but all letters are from your loving Helen. It was a tiresome letter for attempted Margaret to tell a lie, if she wrote that Aunt Julie was still in danger her sister would come. Unhealthiness is contagious. We cannot be in contact with those who are in a morbid state without ourselves deteriorating. To act for the best might do Helen good, but would do herself harm, and at the risk of disaster she kept her colors flying a little longer. She replied that their aunt was much better and awaited developments. Tibbie approved of her reply. Mellowing rapidly he was a pleasanter companion than before. Oxford had done much for him. He had lost his peevishness and could hide his indifference to people and his interest in food. But he had not grown more human. The years between 18 and 22 so magical for most were leading him gently from boyhood to middle age. He had never known young manliness that quality which warms the heart till death gives Mr. Wilcox an imperishable charm. He was frigid through no fault of his own and without cruelty. He thought Helen wrong and Margaret right, but the family trouble was for him what is seen behind footlights is for most people. He had only one suggestion to make and that was characteristic. Why don't you tell Mr. Wilcox about Helen? Perhaps he has come across that sort of thing. He would do all he could, but oh you know best, but he is practical. What is the student's belief in experts? Margaret demurred for one or two reasons. Presently Helen's answer came. She sent a telegram requesting the address of the furniture as she would now return at once. Margaret replied, Certainly not. Meet me at the bankers at four. She and Tibby went up to London. Helen was not at the bankers and they were refused her address. Helen had passed into chaos. Margaret put an arm round her brother. He was all that she had left and never had he seemed more unsubstantial. Tibby loved what next? He replied, It is extraordinary. Dear, your judgments often clearer than mine. Have you any notion what's at the back? None, unless it's something mental. Oh that! said Margaret, quite impossible. But the suggestion had been uttered and in a few minutes she took it up herself. Nothing else explained and London agreed with Tibby. The mask fell off the city and she saw it for what it really is a caricature of infinity. The familiar barriers, the streets along which she moved the houses between which she had made her little journeys for so many years became negligible suddenly. Helen seemed one with grimy trees and the traffic and the slowly flowing slabs of mud. She had accomplished a hideous act of renunciation and returned to the one. Margaret's own faith held firm. She knew the human soul would be merged if it be merged at all with the stars and the sea. Yet she felt that her sister had been going amiss for many years. It was symbolic the catastrophe should come now on a London afternoon while rain fell slowly. Henry was the only hope. Henry was definite. He might know of some paths in the chaos that were hidden from them and she determined to take Tibby's advice and lay the whole matter in his hands. They must call at his office. He could not well make it worse. She went for a few moments into St. Paul's whose dome stands out of the welter so bravely as if preaching the gospel of form. But within St. Paul's is as its surroundings, echoes and whispers, in audible songs, invisible mosaics, wet footmarks crossing and recrossing the floor. See, monumentum requirus, circumspece, it points us back to London. There was no hope of Helen here. Henry was unsatisfactory at first. That she had expected. He was overjoyed to see her back from swanage and slow to admit the growth of a new trouble. When they told him of their search, he only chaffed Tibby in the Schlegos generally and declared that it was just like Helen to lead her relatives a dance. That is what we all say, replied Margaret. But why should it be just like Helen?  Don't ask me. I'm a plain man of business. I live and let live. My advice to you both is don't worry.  You know that strictly forbidden. First your aunt, then your sister. No, we aren't going to have it. Are we theobald? He rang the bell.  I can't have my girl looking as old as her husband. All the same, you have not quite seen our point, said Tibby. Mr. Wilcox, who was in good spirits, retorted, I don't suppose I ever shall. He lent back, laughing at the gifted but ridiculous family, all the fire flickered over the map of Africa. Margaret motioned to her brother to go on. Rather diffident, he obeyed her. Margaret's point is this, he said. Our sister may be mad. Charles, who was working in the inner room, looked round. Come in, Charles, Margaret said kindly. Could you help us at all? We are again in trouble. I'm afraid I cannot. What are the facts? We are all mad more or less, you know, in these days. The facts are as follows, replied Tibby, who had at times a pedantic lucidity. The facts are that she has been in England for three days and will not see us. She has forbidden the bankers to give us her address. She refuses to answer questions. Margaret finds her letters colorless. There are other facts, but these are the most striking. She has never behaved like this before, then? Asked Henry. Of course not, said his wife with a frown. Well, my dear, how am I to know? A senseless spasm of annoyance came over her. You know quite well that Helen never sins against affection, she said. You must have noticed that much in her, surely. Oh yes, she and I have always hit it off together. No, Henry, can't you see? I don't mean that. She recovered herself, but not before Charles had observed her. Stupid and attentive he was watching the scene. I was meaning that when she was eccentric in the past one could trace it back to the heart in the long run. She behaved oddly because she cared for someone or wanted to help them. There's no possible excuse for her now. She is grieving us deeply, and that is why I am sure that she is not well. Mad is too terrible a word, but she is not well. I shall never believe it. I shouldn't discuss my sister with you if I thought she was well. Trouble you about her, I mean. Henry began to grow serious. Ill health was to him something perfectly definite. Generally well himself he could not realize that we sink to it by slow gradations. The sick had no rights, they were outside the pail. One could lie to them remorselessly. When his first wife was seized he had promised to take her down to her for sure, but meanwhile arranged with a nursing home instead. Helen too was ill, and the plan that he sketched out for her capture, clever and well-meaning as it was, drew its ethics from the wolf-pack. You want to get hold of her? He said. That's the problem, isn't it? He has got to see a doctor. For all I know she has seen one already. Yes, yes, don't interrupt. He rose to his feet and thought intently. The genial, tentative host disappeared, and they saw instead the man who had carved money out of Greece and Africa and bought forest from the natives for a few bottles of gin. I've got it, he said at last. It's perfectly easy. Leave it to me. We'll send her down to Howard's End. How will you do that? After her books. Tell her that she must unpack them herself. Then you can meet her there. But Henry, that's just what she won't let me do. It's part of her, whatever it is, never to see me. Of course, you won't tell her you're going. When she is there looking at the cases, you'll just stroll in. If nothing is wrong with her, so much the better. But there'll be the motor round the corner and we can run her up to a specialist in no time. Margaret shook her head. It's quite impossible. Why? It doesn't seem impossible to me, said Tibi. It is surely a very Tibi plan. It is impossible, because she looked at her husband sadly. It's not the particular language that Helen and I talk if you see my meaning. It would do splendidly for other people whom I don't blame. But Helen doesn't talk, said Tibi. That's our whole difficulty.  No, Henry, it's sweet of you, but I couldn't. I see, he said, you have scruples. I suppose so. And sooner than go against them you would have your sister suffer. You could have got her down to swanage by a word, but you had scruples. And scruples are all very well. I am as scrupulous as any man alive, I hope. But when it is a case like this, when there is a question of madness, I deny it's madness. You said just now, it's madness when I say it, but not when you say it. Henry shrugged his shoulders. Margaret, Margaret, he groaned. Now my dear, my time is valuable. Do you want me to help you or not? Not in that way. Answer my question. Plain question, plain answer. Do... Charles surprised them by interrupting. Patter, we may as well keep Howard's end out of it, he said. Why, Charles? Charles could give no reason, but Margaret felt as if, over tremendous distance, a salutation had passed between them. The whole house is at sixes and sevens, he said crossly. We don't want any more mess. Who's we? asked his father. My boy, pray. Who's we? I am sure I beg your pardon, said Charles. I appear always to be intruding. By now Margaret wished she had never mentioned her trouble to her husband. Retreat was impossible. He was determined to push the matter to a satisfactory conclusion, and Helen faded as he talked. Her fair flying hair and eager eyes counted for nothing, for she was ill, without rights, and any of her friends might hunt her. Sick at heart Margaret joined in the chase. She wrote her sister a lying letter at her husband's dictation. She said the furniture was all at Howard's end, but could be seen on Monday next at three p.m., when a charwoman would be in attendance. It was a cold letter, and the more plausible for that. Helen would think she was offended, and on Monday next she and Henry were to lunch with Dolly and then ambush themselves in the garden. After they had gone Mr. Wilcox said to his son, I can't have this sort of behavior, my boy. Margaret's too sweet-natured to mind, but I mind for her. Charles made no answer. Is anything wrong with you, Charles, this afternoon? No, Patter, but you may be taking on a bigger business than you reckon. How? Don't ask me. End of Chapter 34 Chapter 35 of Howard's End This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Howard's End by Edward Morgan Foster Chapter 35 One speaks of the moods of spring, but the days that are her true children have only one mood. They are all full of the rising and dropping of winds and the whistling of birds. New flowers may come out, the green embroidery of the hedges increase, but the same heaven broods overhead, soft, thick, and blue, the same figures, seen and unseen, are wandering by Coppus and Meadow. The morning that Margaret had spent with Miss Avery, and the afternoon she set out to entrap Helen, were the scales of a single balance. Time might never have moved, rain never have fallen, and man alone with his schemes and ailments was troubling nature until he saw her through a veil of tears. She protested no more. Whether Henry was right or wrong, he was most kind, and she knew of no other standard by which to judge him. She must trust him absolutely. As soon as he had taken up a business, his obtuseness vanished. He profited by the slightest indications, and the capture of Helen promised to be staged as deftly as the marriage of Evie. They went down in the morning as arranged, and he discovered that their victim was actually in Hilton. On his arrival he called at all the livery stables in the village, and had a few minute serious conversation with the proprietors. What he said Margaret did not know, perhaps not the truth, but news arrived after lunch that a lady had come by the London train and had taken a fly to Howard's End. She was bound to drive, said Henry, there will be her books. I cannot make it out, said Margaret for the hundredth time. Finish your coffee, dear, we must be off. Yes, Margaret, you know you must take plenty, said Dolly. Margaret tried, but suddenly lifted her hand to her eyes. Dolly stole glances at her father-in-law which she did not answer. In the silence the motor came round to the door. You're not fit for it, he said anxiously. Let me go alone. I know exactly what to do. Oh yes, I am fit, said Margaret, uncovering her face. Only most frightfully worried. I cannot feel that Helen is really alive. Her letters and telegrams seem to have come from someone else. Her voice isn't in them. I don't believe your driver really saw her at the station. I wish I'd never mentioned it. I know that Charles is vexed. Yes, he is. She seized Dolly's hand and kissed it. There, Dolly will forgive me. There, now we'll be off. Henry had been looking at her closely. He did not like this breakdown. Don't you want to tidy yourself? He asked. Have I time? Yes, plenty. She went to the lavatory by the front door, and as soon as the bolt slipped, Mr. Wilcox said quietly, Dolly, I am going without her. Dolly's eyes lit up with vulgar excitement. She followed him on tiptoe out to the car. Tell her I thought it best. Yes, Mr. Wilcox, I see. Say anything you like, all right? The car started well and with ordinary luck would have got away. But poorly Waggles, who was playing in the garden, chose this moment to sit down in the middle of the path. Crane, in trying to pass him, ran one wheel over the bed of wall-flowers. Dolly screamed. Margaret, hearing the noise, rushed out hatless and wasn't time to jump on the footboard. She said not a single word. He was only treating her as she had treated Helen, and her rage at his dishonesty only helped to indicate what Helen would feel against them. She thought, I deserve it. I am punished for lowering my colors. And she accepted his apologies with a calmness that astonished him. I still consider you are not fit for it, he kept saying. Perhaps I was not at lunch, but the whole thing has spread clearly before me now. I was meaning to act for the best. Just lend me your scarf, will you? This wind takes one's hair so. Certainly, dear girl, are you all right now? Look, my hands have stopped trembling. And have quite forgiven me? Then listen, her cab should already have arrived at Howard's end. We are a little late, but no matter. Our first move will be to send it down to Wade at the farm, as, if possible, one doesn't want to see him before servants.  Have you still the keys of the house? Yes. Well, they aren't wanted. Do you remember how the house stands? Yes. If we don't find her in the porch, we can stroll round into the garden, our object. Here they stop to pick up the doctor. I was just saying to my wife, Man's Bridge, that our main object is not to frighten Miss Schlegel. The house, as you know, is my property, so it should seem quite natural for us to be there. The trouble is evidently nervous. Wouldn't you say so, Margaret? The doctor, a very young man, began to ask questions about Helen. Was she normal? Was there anything congenital or hereditary? Had anything occurred that was likely to alienate her from her family? Nothing, answered Margaret, wondering what would have happened if she had added, though she did resent my husband's immorality. She always was highly strung, pursued Henry, leaning back in the car as it shot past the church, a tendency to spiritualism and those things, though nothing serious. Musical, literary, artistic, but I should say normal, a very charming girl. Margaret's anger and terror increased every moment. How dare these men label her sister? What horrors lay ahead? What impertences that shelter under the name of science? The pack was turning on Helen, to deny her human rights, and it seemed to Margaret that all Schlegels were threatened with her. Were they normal? What a question to ask, and it is always those who know nothing about human nature, who are bored by psychology and shocked by physiology who ask it. However pityous her sister's state, she knew that she must be on her side. They would be mad together if the world chose to consider them so. It was now five minutes past three. The car slowed down by the farm in the yard of which Miss Avery was standing. Henry asked her whether a cab had gone past. She nodded, and the next moment they caught sight of it at the end of the lane. The car ran silently like a beast of prey. So unsuspicious was Helen that she was sitting on the porch with her back to the road. She had come. Only her head and shoulders were visible. She sat framed in the vine and one of her hands played with the buds. The wind gruffled her hair. The sun glorified it. She was as she had always been. Margaret was seated next to the door. Before her husband could prevent it, she slipped out. She ran to the garden gate which was shut, passed through it, and deliberately pushed it in his face. The noise alarmed Helen. Margaret saw her rise with an unfamiliar movement, and rushing into the porch learned the simple explanation of all her fears. Her sister was with child. Is the truant all right? called Henry. She had time to whisper, oh my darling. The keys of the house were in her hand. She unlocked Howard's end and thrust Helen into it. Yes, all right! she said and stood with her back to the door. End of Chapter 35 Chapter 36 of Howard's End This is a Libra Box recording. Libra Box recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibraBox.org. This reading by Lucy Burgoyne. Howard's End by E. M. Forster. Chapter 36 Margaret, you look upset, said Henry. Main's bridge had followed. Crane was at the gate, and the flyman had stood up on the box. Margaret shook her head at them. She could not speak any more. She remained clutching the keys, as if all their future depended on them. Henry was asking more questions. She shook her head again. His words had no sense. She heard him wonder why she had let Helen in. You might have given me a knock with the gate. It was another of his remarks. Presently she heard herself speaking. She or someone for her, said, go away. Henry came nearer. He repeated, Margaret, you look upset again. My dear, give me the keys. What are you doing with Helen? Oh, dearest, do go away, and I will manage it all. Manage what? He stretched out his hand for the keys. She might have obeyed if it had not been for the doctor. Stop that at least, she said piteously. The doctor had turned back and was questioning the driver of Helen's cab. A new feeling came over her. She was fighting for women against men. She did not care about rights, but if men came into Howard's inn, it should be over her body. Come, this is an odd beginning, said her husband. The doctor came forward now and whispered two words to Mr. Wilcox. The scandal was out. Sincerely horrified, Henry stood gazing at the earth. I cannot help it, said Margaret. Do wait. It's not my fault. Please, all four of you, go away now. Now the flyman was whispering to Crane. We are relying on you to help us, Mrs. Wilcox, said the young doctor.  On mock grounds, said Margaret, suddenly looking him straight in the eyes. Thinking it professional to prevaricate, he murmured something about a nervous breakdown. I beg your pardon, but it is nothing of the sort. You are not qualified to attend my sister, Mr. Mainbridge. If we require your services, we will let you know. I can diagnose the case more bluntly if you wish, he retorted. You could, but you have not. You are, therefore, not qualified to attend my sister. Come, come, Margaret, Henry, never raising his eyes. This is a terrible business and appalling business. It's doctor's orders. Open the door. Forgive me, but I will not. I don't agree. Margaret was silent. This business is as broad as its long, contributed the doctor. We had better all work together. You need us, Mrs. Wilcox, and we need you. Quite so, said Henry. I do not need you in the least, said Margaret. The two men looked at each other anxiously. No more does my sister, who is still many weeks from her confinement. Margaret, Margaret, well, Henry, send your doctor away. What possible use is he now? Mr. Wilcox ran his eye over the house. He had a vague feeling that he must stand firm and support the doctor. He himself might need support for there was trouble ahead. It all turns on affection now, said Margaret. Affection, don't you see? Resuming her usual methods, she wrote the word on the house with her finger. Surely, you see, I like Helen very much, you not so much. Mr. Mainsbridge doesn't know her. That's all. And affection, when reciprocated, gives rights. Put that down in your notebook, Mr. Mainsbridge. It's a useful formula. Henry told her to be calm. You don't know what you want yourselves, said Margaret, folding her arms. For one sensible remark, you will let you in. Bet you cannot make it. You would trouble my sister for no reason. I will not permit it. I'll stand here all the day sooner. Mainsbridge said Henry in a low voice. Perhaps not now. The pack was breaking up. At a sign from his master, Crane also went back into the car.  Go away now, dear. I shall want your advice later. No doubt. Forgive me if I had been cross. But seriously, you must go.  Now it was Mr. Mainsbridge who called in a low voice to him. I shall soon find you down at Dolly's. She called. As the gate at last clanged between them, the fly moved out of the way. The motor back turned a little, back again, and turned in the narrow road. A string of farm cards came up in the middle. But she waited through all for there was no hurry. When all was over she opened the door. Oh, my darling, she said, my darling, forgive me, how I was standing in the hall. End of Chapter 36, Chapter 37 of Howard's End. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit the LibriVox.org this reading by Lucy Burgoyne. Howard's End by E. M. Forster Chapter 37 Margaret bolted the door on the inside. Then she would have kissed her sister. But Helen, in a dignified voice that came strangely from her, said, convenient, you did not tell me that the books were unpacked. I have found nearly everything that I want. I told you nothing that was true. It has been a great surprise, certainly. Has Aunt Julie been ill? Helen, you wouldn't think I'd invent that. I suppose not, said Helen, turning away and crying a very little. But one loses faith in everything after this. We thought it was illness, but even then I haven't behaved worthy. Helen selected another book. I ought not to have consulted anyone. What would our father have thought of me? She did not think of questioning her sister nor of rebuking her. Both might be necessary in the future, but she had first to purge a greater crime than any that Helen could have committed. That want of confidence that is the work of the devil. Yes, I am annoyed, replied Helen. My wishes should have been respected. I would have gone through this meeting if it was necessary, but after Aunt Julie recovered it was not necessary, planning my life as I now have to do. Come away from those books called Margaret. Helen, do talk to me. I was just saying that I have stopped living haphazard. One can't go through a great deal of. She missed out the noun without planning one's action in advance. I am going to have a child in June, and in the first place conversations, discussions, excitement are not good for me. I will go through them if necessary, but only then. In the second place I have no right to trouble people. I cannot fit in with England as I know it. I have done something that the English never pardon. It would not be right for them to pardon it, so I must live where I am not known. But why didn't you tell me, dearest? Yes, replied Helen judiciously. I might have, but decided to wait. I believe you would never have told me. Oh yes, I should. We have taken a flat in Munich, Margaret glanced out of window. By we, I mean myself and Monica. But for her, I am and have been and always wish to be alone. I have not heard of Monica. You wouldn't have. She is an Italian by birth, at least. She is her living by journalism. I met her originally on Garda. Monica is much the best person to see me through. You are very fond of her, Ben. She has been extraordinarily sensible with me. Margaret guessed at Monica's type. Italiano Ingolziato. They had named it. The crude feminist of the south, whom one respects but avoids, and Helen had turned to it in her need. You must not think that we shall never meet, said Helen, with the measured kindness. I shall always have a room for you when you can be spared and the longer you can be with me the better. But you have an understood jet, Meg, and of course it is very difficult for you. This is a shock to you. It is a shock to me who have been thinking over our futures for many months and they won't be changed by a slight counter-tempt such as this. I cannot live in England. Helen, you have not forgiven me for my treachery.  Oh, Meg dear, why do we talk at all? She dropped a book thoroughly. Then, recovering her soul, she said, tell me, how is it that all the books are down here? Series of mistakes and a great deal of the furniture has been unpacked. Oh, who lives here then? No one. I suppose you are letting it though. The house is dead, said Margaret, with the frown. Why worry on about it? But I am interested. You talk as if I had lost all my interest in life. I am still Helen, I hope. Now, this hasn't the feeling of a dead house. The hall seems more alive even than in the old days. When it held the Wilcox's own things. Interested, are you? Very well, I must tell you. I suppose. My husband lented, unconditioned we, but by a mistake, all our things were unpacked and mis-savory, instead of. She stopped. Look here, I can't go on like this. I warn you, I won't. Helen, why should you be so miserably unkind to me? Simply because you hate Henry. I don't hate him now, said Helen. I have stopped being a skill-girl and me, once again, I'm not being unkind. But as for fitting in with your English life, no, put it out of your head at once. Imagine a visit from me at Juicy Street. It's unthinkable. Margaret could not contradict her. It was appalling to see her quietly moving forward with her plans, not bitter or excitable, neither asserting innocence nor confessing guilt, merely desiring freedom and the company of those who would not blame her. She had been through how much. Margaret did not know. But it was enough to part her from old habits, as well as old friends. Tell me about yourself, said Helen, who had chosen her books and was lingering over the furniture. There's nothing to tell. But your marriage has been happy, Meg. Yes, but I don't feel inclined to talk. You feel as I do. Not that, but I can't. No more can I. It is a nuisance, but no good trying. Something had come between them. Perhaps it was society, which henceforth would exclude Helen. Perhaps it was a third life, already potent, as a spirit. They could find no meeting place. Both suffered acutely and were not comforted by the knowledge that affection survived. Look here, Meg. Is the coast clear? You mean that you want to go away from me? I suppose so, dear old lady. It isn't any use. I knew we should have nothing to say. Give my love to our duly and titty, and take more yourself than I can say. Promise to come and see me in Munich later. Certainly, dearest. For that is all we can do. It seems so. Most ghastly of all was Helen's common sense. Monica had been extraordinarily good for her. I am glad to have seen you and the things. She looked at the bookcase lovingly, as if she was saying farewell to the past. Margaret unbolted the door. She remarked, the car has gone and here's your cab. She led the way to it, glancing at the leaves from the sky. The spring had never seemed more beautiful. The driver, who was leaning on the gate, called out. Please, lady, a message and handed her Henry's visiting card through the bars. How did this come? She asked. Crane had returned with it almost at once. She read the card with annoyance. In domestic French, when she and her sister had talked, she was to come back for the night to Dolly's. Il faut de m'or, sure c'est sugerre. While Helen was to be found, une comfortable chambre à la hôtel. The final sentence displeased her greatly until she remembered that the Charles had only one spare room that she could not invite a third guest. Henry would have done what he could. She interpreted. Helen had not followed her into the garden. The door once opened. She lost her inclination to fly. She remained in the hall going from book place to table. She grew more like the old Helen, irresponsible and charming. It was Mr. Wilcox's house. She inquired. Surely you remember Howard's end. Remember. I who remember everything, but it looks to be ours now. Miss Avery was extraordinary, said Margaret, her own spirits lightening a little. Again she was invaded by a slight feeling of disloyalty. She had no relief and she yielded to it. She loved Mrs. Wilcox and would rather furnish her house with our things than think of it empty. In consequence, here are all the library books. Not all the books. She hasn't unpacked their art books in which she may show her sense and we never used to have the sword here. Magnificent. Yes, doesn't it? Where's the piano, Meg? I warehouseed that in London. Why? Nothing. Curious too that the carpet fits. The carpets a mistake announced Helen. I know that we had it in London, but this floor ought to be there. It is far too beautiful. You still have a mania under furnishing. Would you care to come into the dining room before you start? There's no carpet there. They went in and each minute their talk became more natural.  Look at the chairs though. Oh, look at them. We can place face north. Now it is 30 years since any of those chairs have felt the sun. Feel. Their little backs are quite warm. But why has Miss Avery made them set to partners? I shall just overhear it, Meg. Put it so that anyone sitting will see the lawn. Margaret moved a chair. Helen sat down in it. Yes, the window's too high. Try a drawing room chair. No, I don't like the drawing room so much. The beam has been match-boarded. It would have been so beautiful otherwise. Helen, what a memory you have for some things. You're perfectly right. It's a room that men have spoiled through trying to make it nice for women. Men don't know what we want. We never will. I don't agree. In 2,000 years, they'll know. But the chairs show up wonderfully. Look where Tibi spilt the soup. Coffee? It was coffee, surely. Helen shook her head. Impossible. Tibi was far too young to be given coffee at that time. Was Father alive? Yes. I was thinking of much later that unsuccessful visit of Aunt Julie's when she didn't realise that Tibi had grown up. It was coffee then that he threw it down on purpose. There was some rhyme. Tea, coffee, coffee, tea that she said to him every morning at breakfast. Wait a minute. How did it go? What a detestable boy Tibi was. But the rhyme was simply awful. No decent person could have put up with it. Ah, that green gauge tree cried Helen as if the garden was also part of their childhood. Why do I connect it with dumbbells? And there come the chickens. The grass wants cutting. I love yellow hammers. I interrupted her. I have got it. She announced. Tea, tea, coffee, tea or chocolatey. That every morning for three weeks no wonder Tibi was vile. Tibi is moderately a dear now said Helen. There, I knew you'd say that in the end. Of course he's a dear. A bell rang. Listen, what's that? Perhaps the Wilcox's are beginning the siege. What nonsense? Listen. And the Tribalty faded from their faces though it left something behind the knowledge that they never could be parted because their love was rooted in common things. Explanations and appeals had failed. They had tried for a common meeting ground but they made each other unhappy. And all the time their salvation was lying round them. The past sanctifying the present. The present with wild heart throb, declaring that there would after all be a future with laughter and the voices of children. Helen, still smiling came up to her sister. She said, they always met. They looked into each other's eyes. The inner life had paid. Solonley, the clapper told. No one was in the front. Margaret went to the kitchen and struggled between packing cases to the window. Their visitor was only a little boy with a tin can and Tribalty returned. Little boy, what do you want? Please, I am the milk. Did Miss Savory send you? Said Margaret, rather sharply. Yes, please. Then take it back and say, we require no milk. Well, she called to Helen. No, it's not the siege but possibly an attempt to provision us against one. But I like milk, cried Helen. Why send it away? Do you? Oh, very well. But we've nothing to put it in. And he wants the can. Please, I'm to call in the morning for the can. Said the boy. The house will be locked up then. In the morning, would I bring eggs too? Are you the boy who I saw playing in the stacks last week? The child hung his head. Well, run away and do it again. Nice little boy, whispered Helen. I say, what's your name? Mine's Helen. Tom. That was Helen all over. The Wilcox's too would ask a child its name but they never told their names in return. Tom, this one here is Margaret and at home we have another, called Tibi. Mine are Lopid, supposing Tibi to be a rabbit.  Mind you, come again. Isn't he charming? Undoubtedly, said Margaret. He is probably the son of Maj. And Maj is dreadful but this place has wonderful powers. What do you mean? I don't know because I probably agree with you. The child is dreadful and makes what is beautiful live. I do agree, said Helen as she sipped the milk but you said that the house was dead not half an hour ago meaning that I was dead. I felt it. Yes, the house has a sureer life than we even if it was empty and as it is I can't get over that the sun has never shone full on our furniture. After all, we can place was a grave. Meg, I have a startling idea. What is it? Drink some milk to steady you. Margaret obeyed. No, I won't tell you yet, said Helen because you may laugh or be angry. Let's go upstairs first and give the rooms an airing. They opened window after window till the inside too was rustling to the spring. Curtains blue picture frames tapped cheerfully. Helen uttered cries of excitement as she found this bed obviously in its right place that in its wrong one she was angry with Miss Avery for not having moved the wardrobes up then one would see really she admired the view she was the Helen who had written the memorable letters four years ago as they leant out looking westward she said about my idea couldn't you and I camp out in this house for the night I don't think we could well do that said Margaret here are beds, tables, towels but the house isn't supposed to be slept in and Henry's suggestion was I require no suggestions I shall not alter anything in my plans but it would give me so much pleasure to have one night here with you it will be something to look back on oh me lovey do let's but Helen my pet said Margaret Henry's leave of course he would give it but you said yourself that you couldn't visit a juicy street now and this is equally intimate juicy street is his house this is ours our furniture our sort of people coming to the door do let us camp out just one night and Tom she'll feed us on eggs and milk why not it's a move Margaret hesitated I feel Charles wouldn't like it she said at last even our furniture annoyed him and I was going to clear it out when Aunt Julie's illness prevented me I sympathised with Charles he feels it's his mother's house he loves it in rather an untaking way Henry I could answer for not Charles I know he won't like it said Helen but I am going to pass out of their lives what difference will it make in the long run if they say and she even spent the night at Howard's end how do you know you'll pass out of their lives we have thought that twice before because my plans which you change in a moment then because my life is great and there's our little Helen taking fire I know of things they can't know of and so do you we know that there's poetry we know that there's death they can only take them on hearsay we know this is our house because it feels ours oh they may take the little deeds and the door keys but for this one night we are at home it would be lovely to have you once more alone said Margaret it may be a chance in a thousand yes and we could talk she dropped her voice it won't be a very glorious story but under that which elm honestly I see little happiness ahead cannot I have this one night with you I needn't say how much it would mean to me then let us no good hesitating shall I drive down to Hilton now and get leave oh we don't want leave that Margaret was a loyal wife in spite of imagination and poetry perhaps on account of them she could sympathise with the technical attitude that Henry would adopt if possible she would be technical too lodging and they demanded no more need not involve the discussion of general principles Charles may say no grumbled Helen we shan't consult him go with your life I should have stopped without leave it was the touch of selfishness which was not enough to mar Helen's character and even added to its beauty I should have stopped without leave and escaped to Germany the next morning Margaret kissed her expect me back before dark I am looking forward to it so much it is like you to have thought of such a beautiful thing not a thing only an ending said Helen rather sadly and the sense of tragedy closed in on Margaret again as soon as she left the house she was afraid of miss Avery it is disquieting to fulfil a prophecy however superficially she was glad to see no watching figure as she drove past the farm but only little Tom turning some assaults in the straw End of Chapter 37 Chapter 38 of Howard's End this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this reading by Lucy Bergoyne Howard's End by E. M. Forster Chapter 38 the tragedy began quietly enough and like many other talk he left assertion of his superiority Henry heard her arguing with the driver stepped out and settled the fellow who was inclined to be rude and then led the way to some tears on the lawn Dolly who had not been told ran out with offers of tea he refused them and ordered her to wheel baby's perambulator away as they decided to be alone but the didoms can't listen he isn't nine months old she pleaded that's not what I was saying retorted her father-in-law baby was wheeled out of earshot and did not hear about the crisis till later years it was now the turn of Margaret is it what we feared he asked it is dear girl there's a troublesome business ahead of us and nothing but the most absolute honesty and plain speech will see us through Margaret bent her head I am obliged to question you on subjects we'd both prefer to leave untouched as you know I am not one of your burner chores who consider nothing sacred to speak as I must will pain me there are occasions we are husband and wife not children I am a man of the world and you are a most exceptional woman all Margaret's senses forsook her she blushed and looked past him at the six hills covered with spring herbage noting her colour he grew still more kind I see that you feel as I felt when little wife oh be brave just one or two questions I have done with you was your sister wearing a wedding ring Margaret Stamman a no there was an appalling silence Henry I really came to ask a favour about how it seemed one point at a time I am now obliged to ask for the name of her seducer she rose to her feet and held the chair between them her colour had ebbed and she was grey it did not displease him that she should receive his question thus take your time he counselled her remember that this is far worse for me than for you she swayed he feared she was going to faint then speech came sadly seducer no I do not know her seducer's name would she not tell you I never even asked her who seduced her said Margaret dwelling on the hateful word thoughtfully that is singular then he changed his mind natural perhaps dear girl that you shouldn't ask but until his name is known I can be done sit down how terrible it is to see you so upset I knew you weren't fit for it I wish I hadn't taken you Margaret answered I like to stand if you don't mind for it gives me a pleasant view of the six hills as you like have you anything else to ask me Henry next you must tell me whether you have gathered anything I have often noticed your insight dear I only wish my own was as good you may have guessed something even though your sister said nothing the slightest hint would help us who is we I thought it best to ring up Charles that was unnecessary said Margaret growing warmer this news will give Charles a proportionate pain he hasn't once gone to call on your brother that too was unnecessary let me explain dear how the matter stands you don't think that I and my son are other than gentlemen it is in Helen's interests that we are acting it is still not too late to save her name then Margaret head out for the first time are we to make her seducer marry her she asked if possible yes but Henry suppose he turned out to be married already one has heard of such cases in that case he must pay heavily for his misconduct and be thrashed within an inch of his life so her first blow missed she was thankful of it what had tempered her to imperil both of their lives Henry's obtuseness had saved her as well as himself exhausted with anger she sat down again blinking at him as he told her as much as he thought fit at last she said may I ask you my question now certainly my dear tomorrow Helen goes to Munich well possibly she is right Henry let a lady finish tomorrow she goes tonight with your permission she would like to sleep and howards in it was the crisis of his life again she would have recall the words as soon as they were uttered she had not let up to them with sufficient care she longed to warn him that they were more important than he supposed she saw him weighing them as if they were a business proposition why howards in he said at last would she not be more comfortable as I suggested at the hotel Margaret hasen to give him reasons it is an odd request but you know what Helen is and what women in her state are he frowned and moved irritably she has the idea that one night in your house would give her pleasure and do her good I think she's right being one of those imaginative girls the presence of all our books and furniture soothes her this is a fact it is the end of her girlhood her last words to me were a beautiful ending she values the old furniture for sentimental reasons in fact exactly you have quite understood it is her last hope of being with it I don't agree there my dear Helen will have her share of goods wherever she goes possibly more than her share for you are so fond of her that you'd give her anything of yours that she fancies for you and I'd raise no objection I could understand it if it was her old home because a home or a house he changed the word designedly he had thought of telling point because a house in which one has once lived becomes in a sort of way sacred I don't know why associations and so on Helen has no associations with Howard Zinn though I and Charles and Evie have I do not see why she wants to stay the night there she will only catch cold leave it that you don't see cried Margaret call it fancy that realise that fancy is a scientific fact Helen is fanciful and wants to then he surprised her he shot an unexpected bolt if she wants to sleep one night she may want to sleep too we shall never get her out of the house perhaps well said Margaret with the precipice inside and suppose we don't get her out of the house would it matter she would do no one any harm again the irritated gesture no Henry she painted receding I didn't mean that we will only trouble Howard Zinn for this one night I take her to London tomorrow do you intend to sleep in a damp house too she cannot be left alone that's quite impossible madness you must be here to meet Charles I have already told you that your message to Charles was unnecessary and I have no desire to meet him Margaret my Margaret what has this business to do with Charles if it concerns me little it concerns you less and Charles not at all as the future owner of Howard Zinn said Mr Wilcox arching his fingers I should say that it did concern Charles in what way will Helen's condition appreciate the property my dear you are forgetting yourself I think you yourself recommended plain speaking they looked at each other in amazement the precipice was at their feet now Helen commands my sympathy said Henry as your husband I shall do all for her that I can and I have no doubt that she will prove more sin than sinny than I cannot treat her as if nothing has happened I should be false to my position in society if I did she controlled herself for the last time no let us go back to Helen's request she said it is unreasonable but the request of an unhappy girl tomorrow she will go to Germany and troubles society no longer tonight she asks to sleep in your empty house a house which you do not care about and which you have not occupied for over a year may she will you give my sister leave will you forgive her as you hope to be forgiven and as you have actually been forgiven for one night only that will be enough I have actually been forgiven never mind for the moment what I mean by that said Margaret answered my question perhaps some hint of her meaning did dawn on him if so he blotted it out straight from his fortress he answered I seem rather unaccommodating that I have some experience of life and know how one thing to another I am afraid that your sister had better sleep at the hotel I have my children and the memory of my dear wife to consider I am sorry but see that she leaves my house at once you mentioned Mrs Wilcox I beg your pardon a rare occurrence in reply may I mention Mrs Faced you have not been yourself go said Henry and rose from his seat with face unmoved Margaret rushed at him and seized both his hands she was transfigured not any more of this she cried you shall see the connection if it kills you Henry you have had a mistress I forgave you my sister has a lover you drive her from the house to the kitchen stupid, hypocritical cruel, contemptible a man who insults his wife when she is alive and cants with her memory when she is dead a man who ruins a woman for his pleasure and casts her off to ruin other men and gives bad financial advice and then says he is not responsible these men are you you cannot recognise them because you cannot connect I have had enough of your unweeded kindness I have spoiled you long enough all your life you have been spoiled Mrs Wilcox spoiled you no one has ever told what you are muddled criminally muddled men like you use repentance as a blind so don't repent only say to yourself I have done the two cases are different Henry Stamford his real retort was not quite ready his brain was still in a whirl and he wanted a little longer in what way different you have betrayed Mrs Wilcox Helen only herself you remain in society Helen can't you have had only pleasure she may die do you have the insolence to talk to me of differences Henry oh the usefulness of it Henry's retort came I perceive you are attempting blackmail it is scarcely a pretty weapon for a wife to use against her husband my rule through life has never been to pay the least attention to threats and I can only repeat I do not give you and your sister leave to sleep at Howard's end Margaret loosened his hands he went into the house wiping first one and then the other on his handkerchief for a little she stood looking at the six hills tombs of warriors breasts of the spring then she passed out into what was now the evening end of Chapter 38 Chapter 39 of Howard's End by E. M. Forester this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer go to LibriVox.org this recording by Patty Brugman Chapter 39 Charles and Tibi met at Ducey Street where the latter was staying their interview was short and absurd they had nothing in common but the English language and tried by its help to express what neither of them understood Charles saw in Helen the family foe he had singled her out as the most dangerous of the shagals and angry as he was looked forward to telling his wife how right he had been his mind was made up at once the girl must be got out of the way before she disgraced them farther if occasion offered she might be married to a villain or possibly to a foe but this was a concession to morality it formed no part of his main scheme honest and hearty was Charles's dislike and the past spread itself out very clearly before him hatred is his skillful compositor if so as if they were heads in a notebook he ran through all the incidences of the shagals campaign the attempt to compromise his brother his mother's legacy his father's marriage and the introduction of the furniture the unpacking of the same he had not yet heard of the request to sleep at Howard's end that was to be there master stroke and the opportunity for his but he already felt that Howard's end was very selective and though he disliked the house was determined to defend it Tibby on the other hand had no opinions he stood above the conventions his sister had a right to do what she thought right it is not difficult to stand above the conventions when we leave no hostages among them men can always be more unconventional than women and a bachelor of independent means need encounter no difficulties at all unlike Charles Tibby had money enough his ancestors had earned it for him and if he shocked the people in one set of lodgings he had only to moved into another this was the leisure without sympathy an attitude as fatal as the strenuous a little cold culture may be raised on it but no art his sisters had seen the family danger and had never forgotten to discount the gold islets that raised them from the sea Tibby gave all the praise to himself and so despised the struggling and the submerged hence the absurdity of the interview the gulf between them was economic as well as spiritual but several facts passed Charles pressed for them with an impertinence that the undergraduate could not withstand on what date had Helen gone abroad to whom he was anxious to fasten the scandal on Germany then changing his tactics he said roughly I suppose you realize that you are your sister's protector in what sense if a man played about with my sister I'd send a bullet through him but perhaps you don't mind I mind very much protested Tibby who do you suspect then speak out man one always suspects someone no one I don't think so involuntarily he blushed he had remembered the scene in his Oxford rooms you are hiding something said Charles as interviews go he got the best of this one when you last saw her did she mention anyone's name yes or no he thundered so that Tibby started in my room she mentioned some friends called the Basts who are the Basts people friends of hers I don't remember but by great Scott I do my aunt told me about some tag rag was she full of them when you saw her is there a man did she speak of the man or look here have you had any dealings with him Tibby was silent without intending it he had betrayed his sister's confidence he was not enough interested in human life to see where things will lead to he had a strong regard for honesty in his word once given had always been kept up to now he was deeply vexed not only for the harm he had done Helen but for the flaw he had discovered in his own equipment I see you are in his confidence they met at your rooms oh what a family what a family God help the poor Potter and Tibby found himself alone End of Chapter 39 Chapter 40 of Howard's End by E. M. Forrester this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please go to LibriVox.org this recording by Patty Brugman Chapter 40 Leonard he would figure at length in the newspaper report but that evening he did not count for much the foot of the tree was in shadow since the moon was still hidden behind the house but above to right to left down a long meadow the moonlight was streaming Leonard seemed not a man but a cause perhaps it was Helen's way of falling in love a curious way to Margaret whose agony and whose contempt of Henry were yet imprinted with his image Helen forgot people they were husks that had enclosed her emotion she could pity or sacrifice herself or have instincts but had she ever loved in the noblest way where a man and woman having lost themselves in sex desire to lose sex itself in comradeship Margaret wondered but said no word of blame this was Helen's evening troubles enough lay ahead of her the loss of friends and of social advantages the agony the supreme agony of motherhood which is even yet not a matter of common knowledge for the present let the moon shine brightly and the breezes of the spring blow gently dying away from the gale of the day and let the earth who brings increase bring peace not even to herself dare she blame Helen she could not assess her trespass by any moral code it was everything or nothing morality can tell us that murder is worse than stealing and group most sins in an order almost approved but it cannot group Helen the sure its pronouncements on this point the sure may we be that morality is not speaking Christ was evasive when they questioned him it is those that cannot connect who hasten to cast the first stone this was Helen's evening one at what cost and not to be marred by the sorrows of others of her own tragedy Margaret never uttered a word one isolates said Helen slowly I isolated Mr. Wilcox from the other forces that were pulling Leonard downhill consequently I was full of pity and almost of revenge for weeks I'd blamed Mr. Wilcox only and so when your letters came I need never have written them side Margaret they never shielded Henry how hopeless it is to tidy away the past even for others I did not know that it was your own idea to dismiss the best looking back that was wrong of me looking back darling I know that it was right it is right to save the man whom one loves I am less enthusiastic about justice now but we both thought you wrote at his dictation it seemed the last touch of his callousness being very much wrought up by this time and Mrs. Bast was upstairs I had not seen her and had not talked for a long time to Leonard I had snubbed him for no reason and that should have warned me I was in danger so when the notes came I wanted us to go to you for an explanation he said that he guessed the explanation he knew of it and you mustn't know I pressed him to tell me he said no one must know it was something to do with his wife right up to the end we were Mr. Bast and Ms. Shaggle I was going to tell him that he must be frank with me when I saw his eyes and guessed that Mr. Wilcox had ruined him in two ways not one I drew him to me I made him tell me I felt very lonely myself he is not to blame he would have gone on telling me I want never to see him again though it sounds appalling I wanted to give him money and feel finished oh Meg the little that is known about these things she laid her face against the tree the little too that is known about growth both times it was loneliness and the night and panic afterwards did Leonard grow out of Paul Margaret did not speak for a moment so tired was she but her attention had actually wandered to the teeth the teeth that had been thrust into the tree bark too medicated from where she sat she could see them gleam she had been trying to count them Leonard is a better growth than madness she said I was afraid that you would react against Paul until you went over the verge I did react until I found poor Leonard I am steady now I shan't ever like your Henry dearest Meg or even speak kindly about him but all that blinding hate is over I shall never rave against Wilcox's anymore I understand how you married him and you will now be very happy Margaret did not reply yes repeated Helen her voice growing more tender I do at last understand except Mrs. Wilcox dearest no one understands our little movements because in death I agree not quite I feel that you and I and Henry are only fragments of that woman's mind she knows everything she is everything she is the house and the tree that leans over it people have their own deaths as well as their own lives and even if there is nothing beyond death we shall differ in our nothingness I cannot believe that knowledge such as hers will perish such as mine she knew about realities she knew when people were in love though she was not in the womb I don't doubt that she knew when Henry deceived her good night Mrs. Wilcox call the voice oh good night Miss Avery why should Miss Avery work for us Helen murmured why indeed Miss Avery crossed the lawn and merged into the hedge that divided it the farm an old gap which Mr. Wilcox had filled up had reappeared and her track through the dew followed the path that he had turfed over when he improved the garden and made it possible for games this is not quite our house yet said Helen when Miss Avery called I felt we were only a couple of tourists we shall be that everywhere and forever but affectionate tourists but tourists who pretend each hotel are home I can't pretend very long said Helen sitting under this tree one forgets but I know that tomorrow I shall see the moon rise out of Germany not all your goodness can alter the facts of the case unless you will come with me Margaret thought for a moment in the past year she had grown so fond of England that to leave it was a real grief yet what detained her no doubt Henry would pardon her outburst and go on blustering and muddling through a ripe old age but what was the good she had just as soon vanished from her mind are you sure in asking me Helen should I get on with your Monica you would not but I'm serious in asking you still no more plans now and no more reminiscences they were silent for a while it was Helen's evening the present flowed by them like a stream the tree rustled it had made music before they were born and would continue after their deaths but its song was of the moment the moment had passed the tree rustled again their senses were sharpened and they seemed to ever hand life life passed the tree rustled again sleep now said Margaret the peace of the country was entering into her it has no commerce with memory and little with hope least of all is it concerned with the hopes of the next five minutes it is the peace of the present which passes understanding its murmur came now and now once more as they trod the gravel and now as the moonlight fell upon their father's sword they passed upstairs kissed and amidst the endless iterations fell asleep the house hadn't shadowed the tree at first but as the moon rose higher the two disentangled and were clear for a few moments at midnight Margaret awoke and looked into the garden how incomprehensible that Leonard Bast should have won her this night of peace was he also part of Mrs. Wilcox's mind End of Chapter 40


This is Jeremy Pickens with Auburn University's Department of Horticulture in the Alabama Cooperative Extension System. In this video, we're going to discuss an overview of greenhouse cucumber production. Most greenhouse cucumbers are of a specialty type. These cucumbers are sea-less and do not require pollination. Because they lack seeds, they are also marketed as burplish cucumbers. There are two main types, bait alpha and the Dutch type cucumbers. Bait alpha cucumbers are typically around six inches in length and they're sold in packs of five or six. These packs are wrapped in plastic to reduce moisture loss. As a cucumber loses moisture, they also lose their crispness. These specialty cucumbers have a thin skin, so moisture loss is much more rapid than the traditional cucumbers. Similarly, the Dutch cucumbers are also individually wrapped in plastic. Dutch cucumbers are a lot longer than about 12 to 16 inches in length, but they have very similar attributes to the bait alphas. Cucumbers can be a very labor-intensive crop because they may require daily harvesting to maintain a specific size. This is especially true with the bait alpha type cucumbers that are typically harvested between 80 and 100 grams. Cucumbers are grown in what is called a soilless culture system. In this system, the plants are grown in a substrate like pine bark or perlite. A hydroponic nutrient solution is fed to the roots many times throughout the day. Pictured here is a Dutch bucket production system. These are square pots that are plumbed to a drain that allows the solution leaving the pots to be collected for reuse or disposal. Dutch buckets also have a reservoir that allows some of the nutrient solution to remain in the pot between irrigation cycles. There are several types of containers used in soilless culture. Plastic lay flat or upright bags are commonly used with perlite. Plastic nursery pots are also commonly used with milled pine bark. Pine bark should be aged and screened to a half inch. The most common sizes of pots used is both 3 and 5 gallons. Some of the more advanced systems utilize rock wool slabs and plastic troughs. These troughs allow the recapture of the leach nutrient solution. Soilless culture is a form of hydroponics. The pine bark, the perlite and the other substrates that we use do not hold on to the nutrients very well. So nutrients are going to have to be replaced at each irrigation cycle. So we're using a hydroponic fertilizer and most of those are going to come in two parts. Each part must be injected separately into the irrigation line. So this will require two injectors plumbed into the same irrigation line. Most of these systems are going to utilize standard micro irrigation equipment. We recommend using a pressure compensated drip emitter. That way you're going to have uniform water distribution throughout the greenhouse. Cucumbers are a very fast growing crop. Fruit will begin to form within 20 days after transplanting. The picture on the right is 40 days after transplanting the crop on the left. In order to maximize production, we're going to grow these plants vertically. A standard 30 by 96 greenhouse can accommodate over 550 plants. By training these plants vertically. Cucumbers, we also call the vines cordons, are trained on a string suspended from a wire trellis. This system is commonly running the length of the greenhouse. Most trellis systems used in the southeast are about 6 to 8 feet tall. We do not recommend using the greenhouse structure itself to support the trellis system unless it's been designed to carry that sort of weight. So with growing cucumbers, there are several options as far as plant density and the arrangement of the plants in the greenhouse. Figure 4 here shows a single row vertical cordon system. So it's going to have 6 rows in a 30 foot wide greenhouse. So these rows are going to be 4 to 5 feet apart on center. The plants are going to be placed directly under the steel cable on that row. Plants will be about 12 to 18 inches apart within the row. So a 30 by 96 structure could accommodate 528 to 570 plants depending on how they're spaced in the greenhouse. Another option for vertical cordons would be the double row system. So here figure 5, here's a 5 row system in a 30 foot wide greenhouse. So in these rows there's going to be 2 wire cables suspended above each row and these cables will be about 24 inches apart. Now the rows themselves are 5 to 6 feet apart on center. So going down the row the plants are 18 to 24 inch apart and they're going to be staggered between the wires and that way you maximize your light interception. So a 30 by 96 greenhouse would accommodate 440 to 570 plants. Another training option is the V cordon system. So in this system you're going to have 2 wire cables for your trellis positioned above each row. So a 30 foot greenhouse can accommodate 5 to 6 rows with rows being about 5 to 6 foot apart on center. Now the plants within the row are going to be spaced 12 to 16 inches apart as you move down the rows. Now as you move down the row each plant will be alternating between either the left or the right wire where it's going to be trained. So as you look down the row as the plants mature it's going to make sort of a V type look to it. So a 30 by 96 foot structure is going to accommodate 330 to 570 plants in this type of system. A very common problem in cucumber production is over fruiting. In this type of situation there's going to be too heavy of a fruit load and the amount of vegetative material to provide energy for that fruit production is just not there yet. So to accommodate for this all fruit should be removed until you get about 30 inches of vine growing on that trellis. So in doing that you're not going to have this fruit abortion problem it's just allowing more vegetative growth to provide more energy to support a heavier fruit load. There are two primary pruning systems for greenhouse cucumber production. There's the modified umbrella training system you'll see here on the left in figure 7 and then the single cordon sort of a drape over method featured there on the right. So the modified umbrella system does not allow for any side shoots to form. Once that vine reaches the cable trellis the terminal end is pruned off. In doing so two side shoots form. These side shoots are allowed to grow in opposite directions down the wire trellis for about 16 inches or so and then they're allowed to grow back towards the ground. The other method is just sort of a drape over method or loop over method where once that terminal end reaches the wire cable trellis it is not pruned. It is allowed to grow and it is kind of draped over that wire and allowed to grow back towards the ground. Research has shown that by not pruning that terminal end you don't have a delay in fruiting and you actually have a higher yield. Cucumbers produce a lot of fruit. Common yields are anywhere from 20 to 25 pounds per plant for a 12-week harvesting period. You could have two to three crop cycles a year with cucumbers. Fruit can be stored for up to 14 days at 50 degrees Fahrenheit. So it's a lot of fruit. It'd be good to have a plan on what you're going to do with it as far as marketing before you even plant your first seed. So that was a very brief introduction to greenhouse cucumber production. If you want to learn more detailed information you can check out our new fact sheet Greenhouse Cucumber Production. If you want to access this go to aces.edu that's a-c-e-s.edu. When you get there go to the search feature and type in a-n-r-2926. You should be able to access it very quickly in doing so. Also if you would like more information or have further questions you can contact your commercial regional horticulture extension agent. If you don't know who that is you can contact your local county extension office and they can put you in contact with that person and through them we'll try to answer your questions as best as we can. We'd also like to give a special thanks to the Alabama Department of Agriculture and Industries for providing us a 2019 specialty crop block grant that provided funding for this program.


A film in three minutes, Pom Wonderful Presents, The Greatest Movie Ever Sold. You know that feeling, when you've worked all day, you get home tired and you just want to do nothing.  But which one to choose? How about the 2011 documentary, Pom Wonderful Presents, The Greatest Movie Ever Sold? A film that delves into the cloak-and-dagger world of product placement in marketing and advertising by shining a crude, but revealing light on the industry's best or worst practices depending on your point of view. And who better to leave this documenting vanguard than one, Morgan Spurlock? The director, producer and star of the groundbreaking 2004 film Super Size Me, which shone a light on the unhealthy practices of the fast food industry and made Spurlock persona non-grata to giant corporations. In the film, the director attempts to create a completely transparent documentary that explores the twisted relationship advertising has with storytelling, completely paid for by the sponsors using the very marketing techniques that he uncovers, creating a film within a film that blurs the line between what is documentary information and what is just plain advertising. Once he secures financing from a number of companies, from a hotel chain, an airline, a shoe manufacturer, a deodorant company, to the film's title, soundtrack, tie-in products and even the food and drink Spurlock has on camera all being up for grabs, the contractual obligations such companies demand begin to filter through into the film, such as presenting interviewees with a pair of hiking shoes, creating an in-flight movie, sneaking in a commercial for Pom's wonderful pomegranate juice, which is made of 100% pomegranate by the way, to driving only mini-coopers on his many travels. However, it quickly dawns on the filmmaker that the more deals he signs, the more he is beholden to said investors, which in turn could compromise his original vision for the film. But in typical Spurlock fashion, the director puts himself centre stage of his subject with a charming presence that's hard not to smile at, especially when you realise he is selling something to you from one of his many sponsors. Every aspect of the production from the original pitch to securing finance, the design of the poster and trailer, the distribution and publicity for the film is covered in eye-opening detail, providing a rare behind-the-scenes look at the decision-making processes behind the marketing of a film about marketing. But most interestingly, the filmmaker's tongue-in-cheek approach reveals some of the ethical implications behind modern advertising techniques, from neuromarketing to subliminal messaging to the desperate measures public schools undertake to secure funding. Spurlock's style might not please everyone, but Pom Wonderful presents the greatest movie ever sold will certainly make you think twice about the next commercial you see, and hopefully leaves you wiser and more resistant to the dark arts of advertising in the future. Now, where's that pom juice?


What we've learned in the last few years more so is that vitamin D plays a huge role when it comes to inflammation and pain Experience now if we have good optimal levels of vitamin D It is less likely that you're going to get more long-term inflammation and hence pain So it's something that I would really want to optimize and I do try and optimize in all my patients and obviously like you said This is a vitamin that has lots of roles in the body and in the UK especially we're really unfortunately In a situation where we do often have vitamin D deficiencies and that's unfortunately due to our general lack of sunlight


Nineteen, Nineteen's footballing icons go here to hit here in the doghouse tonight. Nigel Fuss, Mansfield and Mark Hughes, Bradford City both left the net in the battle. The promotion from lead to both among 14's level and 27 points in a congested table before a drift in the automatic motion places. Mansfield were incredibly in his way to another promotion rival, Barrow, in the FA Cup on Saturday. Bradford will beat him at home like Harrogate in the lead this Sunday. It's now Sunday. Mansfield trying to make their way through the ball, but the referee has played back and it's gone on the open up as well. And it might fall here to Smithfield. Slantone is second in the season. Coming off the bench Saturday. Equal to the starting lineup tonight. Boateng now, promotion rivals.


Welcome geometry students to another example of special right triangles 45 45 90 and I'm going to label each side of the Triangle when you have a 45 45 90 you need to remember that the sides go with x x and x root 2 So in our first example X is going to be 8 because these two legs are Equal to one another and why Will be 8 root 2 so as simple when we have the legs We just choose x as both legs are the same and we throw a root 2 on it to get our answer now for the second example We are given the hypotenuse so that's on the side that we would label as x root 2 So it's pretty easy to see that x must be 10 So the two legs in our second example are again equal to each other and they are both equal to 10 So you need to work on remembering this little rule down here of xx x root 2