<h3 align="CENTER">Chapter 39</h3>
<p>Charles and Tibby met at Ducie 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 Schlegels, 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 fool. 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 a skilful compositor. As if they were
heads in a note-book, he ran through all the incidents of the
Schlegels' campaign: the attempt to compromise his brother, his
mother's legacy, his father's marriage, the introduction of the
furniture, the unpacking of the same. He had not yet heard of
the request to sleep at Howards End; that was to be their
master-stroke and the opportunity for his. But he already felt
that Howards End was the objective, and, though he disliked the
house, was determined to defend it.<br/>
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 move
into another. His 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.<br/>
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? (Charles 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?"<br/>
"In what sense?"<br/>
"If a man played about with my sister, I'd send a bullet
through him, but perhaps you don't mind."<br/>
"I mind very much," protested Tibby.<br/>
"Who d'ye suspect, then? Speak out, man. One always
suspects someone."<br/>
"No one. I don't think so." Involuntarily he blushed. He
had remembered the scene in his Oxford rooms.<br/>
"You are hiding something," said Charles. As interviews go,
he got the best of this one. "When you saw her last, did she
mention anyone's name? Yes, or no!" he thundered, so that Tibby
started.<br/>
"In my rooms she mentioned some friends, called the
Basts--"<br/>
"Who are the Basts?"<br/>
"People--friends of hers at Evie's wedding."<br/>
"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?"<br/>
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, and 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.<br/>
"I see--you are in his confidence. They met at your rooms.
Oh, what a family, what a family! God help the poor pater--"<br/>
And Tibby found himself alone.</p>
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