"No; I spend the greater portion of my time in reading. Besides, I have a companion—a gentleman accomplished enough to be of great use to me in my studies."
"You are a young man," she said, eyeing me intently, "and it is unusual for young men to banish themselves from life and its pleasures, especially if they have money."
"I admire your incredulity," I answered, laughing, "for it gives me an excuse to tell you more of myself than I could otherwise have done. I mean, that a voluntary confession would have smacked rather egotistic."
She left her chair and began to pace up and down the room. I was fascinated by her form, the beautiful curve of her breast, the proportioned waist, her erect stature, and the unconscious grace of her movements. When her face was towards me her eyes were invariably on mine; there was in them an unsmiling sparkle, a grave glow, that gave unreality to their gaze, a spectral beauty to their depths.
"I took Elmore Court," I continued, "not because I was tired of, but because I wanted to enjoy, life."
"You thought that abstinence would create appetite?"
"I wished to learn the art of living; and this, I saw, was only to be accomplished by study, by thought, and by awakening aspirations which should be lofty enough to make their achievement laborious."
"What do you hope to do?"
"Much."
"You will do little. Ah! you think I mean that you have no talent? I have not said so. How should I know your gifts and deficiencies? But life itself is one huge disappointment. The more laborious the effort the more dreadful the failure. Pray don't fancy I think only of books, or art, or science. I know nothing of these things; and they make but a very small portion of life. I have the passions in my mind—love, hope, patience and the like—all these things end in regret."