though of course in the past

She looked Helen straight in the face and said, "You have a charmin' house."She had a strongly marked face, her eyes looked straight at you,and though naturally she was imperious in her manner she was nervousat the same time. Mrs. Thornbury acted as interpreter, making thingssmooth all round by a series of charming commonplace remarks. 　　"I've taken it upon myself, Mr. Ambrose," she said, "to promisethat you will be so kind as to give Mrs. Flushing the benefitof your experience. I'm sure no one here knows the country aswell as you do. No one takes such wonderful long walks. No one,I'm sure, has your encyclopaedic knowledge upon every subject. 　　Mr. Wilfrid Flushing is a collector. He has discovered really beautifulthings already. I had no notion that the peasants were so artistic--though of course in the past--""Not old things--new things," interrupted Mrs. Flushing curtly. 　　"That is, if he takes my advice."The Ambroses had not lived for many years in London without knowingsomething of a good many people, by name at least, and Helen rememberedhearing of the Flushings. Mr. Flushing was a man who kept an oldfurniture shop; he had always said he would not marry because mostwomen have red cheeks, and would not take a house because most houseshave narrow staircases, and would not eat meat because most animalsbleed when they are killed; and then he had married an eccentricaristocratic lady, who certainly was not pale, who looked as if sheate meat, who had forced him to do all the things he most disliked--and this then was the lady. Helen looked at her with interest. 　　They had moved out into the garden, where the tea was laid undera tree, and Mrs. Flushing was helping herself to cherry jam. 　　She had a peculiar jerking movement of the body when she spoke,which caused the canary-coloured plume on her hat to jerk too. 　　Her small but finely-cut and vigorous features, together with the deepred of lips and cheeks, pointed to many generations of well-trainedand well-nourished ancestors behind her. 　　"Nothin' that's more than twenty years old interests me,"she continued. "Mouldy old pictures, dirty old books, they stick'em in museums when they're only fit for burnin'.""I quite agree," Helen laughed. "But my husband spends his lifein digging up manuscripts which nobody wants." She was amusedby Ridley's expression of startled disapproval.

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