“I’m tired of claret.”
“It seems to me, sir,” observed Mr. Carriston leisurely, “that you are tired of all things.”
“I am—including myself.”
“Strange! A young man of thirty years of age, sound of mind and body, who is fortunate enough to inherit six thousand a year, ought to be happy.”
“Money does not bring happiness.”
“Ah, that proverb is quite worn out,” replied the Rector cheerily; “try another, my boy, try another.”
Maurice, leaning forward with a sigh, took a handful of nuts, which he proceeded to crack in a listless fashion. The Rector said nothing, but waited for Maurice to speak, which he was obliged to do out of courtesy, although much disinclined to resume the argument.
“I’ve tried everything, and I’m tired of everything.”
“Even of that marble-chipping you call art?”
“I am more tired of that than of anything else,” said Maurice emphatically.