...of snobbery

She had come to visit her father three years before she died. He could barely recognise her. She was now a slim young woman, with the manners of a young lady, and she dressed like one too. She spoke cleverly, like they do in books, smoked tobacco, and slept until midday. When Andrey Andreyich asked her what she did, she had looked him straight in the eye and boldly decalred: 'I am an actress!' Such frankness seemed to the former servant to be the height of cynicism. Mashutka had started to boast about her successes and her life as an actress, but when she saw her father go crimson and spread his hands, she fell silent. And so they spent the next two weeks in silence, not looking at each other until she was about to leave. Before she departed, she begged her father to go for a walk with her along the river bank. And he had given in to her entreaties, despite being aghast at the idea of walking with his actress daughter in broad daylight in front of all those honest people.

[The Requiem, Chekhov, A.]