"That's just it," said Nidderdale. "The House puts up with anything now. There is a great deal of good feeling no doubt, but there's no earnestness about anything. I think you are more earnest than we; but then you are such horrid bores. And each earnest man is in earnest about something that nobody else cares for."
When they were again in the drawing-room, Lord Popplecourt was seated next to Lady Mary. "Where are you going this autumn?" he asked.
"I don't know in the least. Papa said something about going abroad."
"You won't be at Custins?" Custins was Lord Cantrip's country seat in Dorsetshire.
"I know nothing about myself as yet. But I don't think I shall go anywhere unless papa goes too."
"Lady Cantrip has asked me to be at Custins in the middle of October. They say it is about the best pheasant-shooting in England."
"Do you shoot much?"
"A great deal. I shall be in Scotland on the Twelfth. I and Reginald Dobbes have a place together. I shall get to my own partridges on the 1st of September. I always manage that. Popplecourt is in Suffolk, and I don't think any man in England can beat me for partridges."
"What do you do with all you slay?"
"Leadenhall Market. I make it pay,—or very nearly. Then I shall run back to Scotland for the end of the stalking, and I can easily manage to be at Custins by the middle of October. I never touch my own pheasants till November."