"Your house, dear Rrchud?" exclaimed Lady Arabel. "Are you sure? I didn't know the Higginses had any house property on Mitten Island."
"They haven't now," replied Richard. "But never mind. It has always seemed to me that there were too many houses in the world. Most houses are traps into which everything enters, and out of which nothing comes. It always grieves me to see tradesmen pouring sustenance in at the back door, and no result or justification coming out of the front door. I often think that only the houses that men's bodies have deserted are really inhabited."
"It was I who burnt your house down, Richard," said Miss Ford. "But it doesn't matter. It wasn't a real house."
"You are right," said Richard. "To such as you, dear Meta, it was not a real house. It was the House of Living Alone, and only to people who live alone was it real. It is dark and deserted now, and levelled with the cold ground; it is as though it were a tent, being moved from its position to follow the fortunes of those dwellers alone who wander continually in silence up and down the world...."
He looked at Sarah Brown.
"Talking of wandering," said Miss Ford. "We are all going to America, Richard. Can you get us passports?"
"Certainly," agreed Richard. "To America, eh? A nice little trip for you all. America, you know, would be entirely magic, if it weren't for the Americans...."
"I have quite a circle of friends in New York," said Miss Ford, who seemed to be recovering from her nerve-storm.
"Beware," said Richard, "lest you all forget the magic of to-night, and change from adventurers to tourists."
"I am not going to America," said Lady Arabel. "I am going home. I never heard such dretful nonsense. I was only in fun when I agreed to the plan."