Snobs

by Julian Fellowes

Lust, that state commonly known as ‘being in love’, is a kind of madness. It is a distortion of reality so remarkable that it should, by rights, enable most of us to understand the other forms of lunacy with the sympathy of fellow-sufferers. And

while most people have been at their unhappiest when in love, it is nevertheless the state the human being yearns for above all.

‘You are a fucking cow,’ she said. ‘A fucking cow with a hide of leather and no heart.’ Lady Uckfield seemed to think over these words for a moment before nodding. ‘Probably there is some truth in your unflattering description,’ she acknowledged. ‘And it is perhaps for that reason, or something resembling it, expressed hopefully in more fragrant language, that I have made such a success of my opportunities and you have made such a failure of yours. Goodbye, my dear.’