<p>The following passage is adapted from a novel set in
the early twentieth century. Mr. Beebe, a clergyman, is
speaking with Cecil Vyse about a mutual acquaintance,
Lucy Honeychurch. Miss Honeychurch has recently
returned from a journey with her older cousin and
chaperone, Miss Bartlett.</p>
<p>Lucy Honeychurch has no faults, said Cecil,
with grave sincerity.
I quite agree. At present she has none.
At present?
Im not cynical. Im only thinking of my pet theory
about Miss Honeychurch. Does it seem reasonable that
she should play piano so wonderfully, and live so quietly?
I suspect that someday she shall be wonderful in both.
The water-tight compartments in her will break down,
and music and life will mingle. Then we shall have her
heroically good, heroically badtoo heroic, perhaps,
to be good or bad.
Cecil found his companion interesting.
And at present you think her not wonderful as far
as life goes?
Well, I must say Ive only seen her at Tunbridge
Wells, where she was not wonderful, and at Florence.
She wasnt wonderful in Florence either, but I kept
on expecting that she would be.
In what way?
Conversation had become agreeable to them, and
they were pacing up and down the terrace.
I could as easily tell you what tune shell play next.
There was simply the sense that she found wings and
meant to use them. I can show you a beautiful picture
in my diary. Miss Honeychurch as a kite, Miss Bartlett
holding the string. Picture number two: the string breaks.
The sketch was in his diary, but it had been made afterwards,
when he viewed things artistically. At the time he
had given surreptitious tugs to the string himself.
But the string never broke?
No. I mightnt have seen Miss Honeychurch rise,
but I should certainly have heard Miss Bartlett fall.
It has broken now, said the young man in low,
vibrating tones.
Immediately he realized that of all the conceited,
ludicrous, contemptible ways of announcing an engagement
this was the worst. He cursed his love of metaphor;
had he suggested that he was a star and that Lucy was
soaring up to reach him?
Broken? What do you mean?
I meant, Cecil said stiffly, that she is going
to marry me.
The clergyman was conscious of some bitter
disappointment which he could not keep out of his
voice.
I am sorry; I must apologize. I had no idea you
were intimate with her, or I should never have talked
in this flippant, superficial way. You ought to have
stopped me. And down in the garden he saw Lucy
herself; yes, he was disappointed.
Cecil, who naturally preferred congratulations
to apologies, drew down the corner of his mouth. Was
this the reaction his action would get from the whole
world? Of course, he despised the world as a whole;
every thoughtful man should; it is almost a test of
refinement.
Im sorry I have given you a shock, he said
dryly. I fear that Lucys choice does not meet with
your approval.</p>
<p>Could you please kindly explain the bold portions of this passage for me? I don't have any idea about every one of them?</p>
<p>
[QUOTE]
The sketch was in his diary, but it had been made afterwards,
when he viewed things artistically. At the time he
had given surreptitious tugs to the string himself.
[/QUOTE]
What sketch is this? And what does "afterwards" mean? After when does he begin to view things artistically and "make" that sketch? Does he draw the sketch himself? Of the two pictures he present, which is photograph or which does he draw? What does "surreptitous tugs" mean? Everything is on photo/paper, why can the man tug the kite? </p>
<p>Thanks in advance.</p>