Where Angels Fear to Tread by E.M. Forster

Irma lifted a serious face to be kissed, and said cautiously, “I’ll do my best.” She referred not to her own mother, but to her mother-in-law, Mrs. Mind you’re always good, and do what Granny tells you.” What a whirl!” She caught sight of her little daughter Irma, and felt that a touch of maternal solemnity was required.

But his family disliked his continual visits to the Continent, and he himself often found pleasure in the idea that he was too busy to leave town. “I wish I were.” He could have managed it without great difficulty, for his career at the Bar was not so intense as to prevent occasional holidays. “How I wish you were coming, Philip,” she said, flattered at the unwonted notice her brother-in-law was giving her.

Love and understand the Italians, for the people are more marvellous than the land.” And don’t, let me beg you, go with that awful tourist idea that Italy’s only a museum of antiquities and art. See the little towns–Gubbio, Pienza, Cortona, San Gemignano, Monteriano. “Remember,” he concluded, “that it is only by going off the track that you get to know the country. The good-natured young man hurried away, and Philip, taking his place, flooded her with a final stream of advice and injunctions–where to stop, how to learn Italian, when to use mosquito-nets, what pictures to look at. “Quite an ovation,” she cried, sprawling out of her first-class carriage. Miss Abbott was likewise attended by numerous relatives, and the sight of so many people talking at once and saying such different things caused Lilia to break into ungovernable peals of laughter. Kingcroft, had braved the journey from Yorkshire to bid her only daughter good-bye. They were all at Charing Cross to see Lilia off–Philip, Harriet, Irma, Mrs.

Where Angels Fear to Tread by E.M. Forster