He sighed, and fixed his eyes absently on the open hilly view from the summer-house door.
"It's strange to see you depressed," I said. "Your spirits seemed to be quite inexhaustible on that first evening when you interrupted Mr. Finch over Hamlet."
He threw away the end of his cigar, and laughed bitterly.
"We artists are always in extremes," he said. "What do you think I was wishing just before you spoke to me?"
"I can't guess."
"I was wishing I had never come to Dimchurch!"
Before I could return a word, on my side, Lucilla's voice reached our ears, calling to me from the garden. Nugent instantly sprang to his feet.
"Have we said all we need say?" he asked.
"Yes—for to-day, at any rate."
"For to-day, then—good-bye."