"It must be desolate in winter." Archie gave his impressions, including a description of the house with the huge midden. "It was larger than the cottage," he said in great disgust, "and the drunken savage who drove me wanted to learn what I knew about Scipio Africanus and the Punic wars. Punic wars indeed!"
"I like the country and the people," said Mark, "but you have to climb to get at either."
After supper the guests marched outside and settled themselves in the sheds, which were lit with lamps. Some read, some played chess, some listened to Stride, who talked unceasingly. The Bishop led Archie aside and asked him if he would like to smoke a pipe on the lawn.
"I'll smoke a cigar," said Archie. "Can I offer you one?"
"I prefer a pipe," said the Bishop.
They strolled together on to the lawn. Although it was nearly ten, twilight still lingered about the landscape, as if loath to leave a scene so fair in darkness. Archie listened attentively to what his companion was saying.
"Your brother has neglected his body." (Ross had been warned by Mark to say no more than this.) "In such cases more or less of a breakdown is inevitable. I am delighted that you see a change for the better. Six months up here, under Stride, may set him up."
"I hoped to take him back with me. I came up for that purpose."
"Your brother can return with you, if he wishes, but would it be wise?"
"Perhaps not, perhaps not," said Archie. "We did not know that you were prepared to offer so generous a hospitality."