Lucy stayed in a room with a view. Unconciously she was breaking out from the confines of her upbringing and society's conventionality. She stumbled, took a step forward and ten behind, she doubt herself and her opinion, she made a muddle of her situation. "Beware of muddle," warned kindly old Mr. Emerson.George will always stand among nature in my eyes. He was brought up with eyes wide open and like nature was world weary. Until he shared the murder event in Florence with Lucy and decided, "I shall probably want to live.."Cecil was locked up in his windowless room and I'm afraid he will stay there for all his life. Even after being shocked by light let in by Lucy there he was returning to his own closed view. I wanted to slap him for the way he was behaving to other people but no matter, he's the sort who can't know any one intimately.Mr. Beebe wanted to see a butterfly burst out from a cocoon. "If Miss Honeychurch ever takes to live as she plays, it will be very exciting both for us and for her." Pity for him what he found was a pair of doves. So he grumbled in the end and walked away from the story. Charlotte was even more weary and hiding behind a good cousin mask. She annoyed all the people she came into contact, and yet she has always hoped. That from the very first moment we met, she hoped, far down in her mind, that we should be like this—of course, very far down. That she fought us on the surface, and yet she hoped. I can't explain her any other way. Can you? Look how she kept me alive in you all the summer; how she gave you no peace; how month after month she became more eccentric and unreliable. The sight of us haunted her—or she couldn't have described us as she did to her friend. There are details—it burnt. I read the book afterwards. She is not frozen, Lucy, she is not withered up all through. She tore us apart twice, but in the rectory that evening she was given one more chance to make us happy. We can never make friends with her or thank her. But I do believe that, far down in her heart, far below all speech and behaviour, she is glad.Freddy and Mrs. Honeychurdh were family. They nagged, annoyed, made you ashamed of them, irritate, but they are also the pillar of strength, the warm embrace, the shoulder to cry on.I kept on being surprised by books. Those I thought wouldn't interest me touched me in the heart and made me their friend forever. This one started as a passing acquaintance ended up as a bossom friend. The beginning was a bit annoying seeing the people pretend to themselves that they are Radicals (with capital R,of course) and yet only have conventional soul. How they badger Lucy who just got a glimpse of herself to conform to their small boxes. Anyway opened eyes sure didn't do George any good, he was just weary.It would change though, not always forward, but like in real life full of side-trips, turn-arounds, side-steps and jumping fences. Until finally Lucy reaches the truth. Not as an independent butterfly, (Forster didn't give her that and somehow it annoyed me a bit how her self awareness struggled not out by itself but was hammered down by George and his father) but she was not drowned in a muddle.In the end the true heroes for Mr. Beebe would be the Miss Alans, who sailed to Greece. "Then you don't see the wonder of this Greek visit. I haven't been to Greece myself, and don't mean to go, and I can't imagine any of my friends going. It is altogether too big for our little lot. Don't you think so? Italy is just about as much as we can manage. Italy is heroic, but Greece is godlike or devilish—I am not sure which, and in either case absolutely out of our suburban focus....I was saying, if our poor little Cockney lives must have a background, let it be Italian. Big enough in all conscience. The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel for me. There the contrast is just as much as I can realize. But not the Parthenon, not the frieze of Phidias at any price."