"I would rather walk," I persisted. Whereupon Hugh announced his intention of accompanying me.
When Mr. Lethbridge bade me good-night he had quite recovered his equanimity, and expressed the hope that I would soon come to see them again.
"I feel like a toad in a hole," said Hugh, after we had walked some minutes in silence together.
"How is that?" I asked.
"What has life to offer a fellow? The pater insisted upon my going to the University and reading for the Bar. I am not fit for it—I know I am not fit. Then, although he pretends to be a man of the people, he is also socially ambitious. You would not believe it, would you? I know it is wrong for me to talk in this way, but somehow I cannot help it. You know, Erskine, as my father said just now, he was a poor man, and made money rapidly, and he is disappointed that the doors of the county people are not open to us. I do not care a fig about the county people myself; do you?"
"Some of them are very nice," I replied.
"You will not take it amiss of me if I tell you something, will you? And, of course, you will regard it as a confidence? It is something which means a lot to me."
"Do you think you know me well enough to tell me?" I replied. "After all, we have only met twice."
"I must tell you," he persisted. "As you say, I have only met you twice, but I seem to have known you all my life. Besides, a fellow must tell his thoughts to some one. I am in love, Erskine."
"That is interesting."