“Exactly!—How do you do, Mr. Fitzhugh,” as they passed a policeman in uniform.
“Good morning, Mr. Croyden!” was the answer.
“There! that illustrates,” said Croyden. “You meet Fitzhugh every place when he is off duty. He belongs. His occupation does not figure, in the least.” 93
“So you like it—Hampton, I mean?” said Macloud.
“I’ve been here a month—and that month I’ve enjoyed—thoroughly enjoyed. However, I do miss the Clubs and their life.”
“I can understand,” Macloud interjected.
“And the ability to get, instantly, anything you want——”
“Much of which you don’t want—and wouldn’t get, if you had to write for it, or even to walk down town for it—which makes for economy,” observed Macloud sententiously.
“But, more than either, I miss the personal isolation which one can have in a big town, when he wishes it—and has always, in some degree.”
“And that gets on your nerves!” laughed Macloud. “Well, you won’t mind it after a while, I think. You’ll get used to it, and be quite oblivious. Is that all your objections?”