Rolfe gave a sort of grunt, and kept silence.
'To my mind,' pursued the other, 'the best thing about Alma is that she appreciates my wife. She has really a great admiration for Sibyl; no sham about it, I'm sure. I don't pretend to know much about women, but I fancy that kind of thing isn't common—real friendship and admiration between them. People always say so, at all events.'
'I take refuge once more,' said Rolfe, 'in my fathomless ignorance.'
He rose from his chair, and sat down again on a corner of the table. Carnaby stood up, threw his arms above his head, and yawned with animal vehemence, the expression of an intolerable ennui.
'There's something damnably wrong with us all—that's the one thing certain.'
'Idleness, for one thing,' said Rolfe.
'Yes. And I'm too old to do anything. Why didn't I follow Miles into the army? I think I was more cut out for that than for anything else. I often feel I should like to go to South Africa and get up a little war of my own.'
Rolfe shouted with laughter.
'Not half a bad idea, and the easiest thing in the world, no doubt.'
'Nigger-hunting; a superior big game.'