"The fact is," observed the latter, who was lying under the yew tree with a pipe in his mouth, and an uncut magazine in his hand, "that each of us carries his own supply of dulness about with him independently of external circumstances. Not but what there are conceivable cases where external circumstances would have a tremendous dulness-producing power; such as being banished to a desolate shore beyond the reach of 'baccy;' or having to read the Parliamentary debates right through every day."
"Or being obliged to attend a musical afternoon at Miss Piper's London lodging three times a week," put in May, laughing. "You don't know what a hopeless heretic he is, Mrs. Hadlow. Even amiable Mr. Sweeting gave him up in despair. And Lady Moppett thinks he ought to be excommunicated."
"Well, I suppose he need not have gone to Miss Piper's unless he had chosen to do so," said Aunt Jane. "Owen is rather fond of being pitied for having his own way. He ate his cake in the shape of enjoying Miss Piper's music, and had it in the shape of declaring himself a victim."
"Enjoying——? Good heavens!" exclaimed Owen, waving his pipe in protest.
"Why did you go, then?"
To this simple query Owen made no other response than muttering, with his pipe between his teeth again, that there were "compensations."
"Owen," said his aunt abruptly, after a long silence, "you are a most unsatisfactory spectacle to behold."
"That's disappointing, Aunt Jane. I flattered myself that I was a thing of beauty and a joy for ever."
"I shouldn't care about your not being ornamental, if only you were useful. But it is dreadful to see you wasting your life."
"I assure you I am employing my life in a very agreeable manner just now," answered Owen, resting on his elbow, and glancing up from under the shadow of his straw hat.