You tell them one or two items of news, and give them your views and opinions on the Irish question; but this does not appear to interest them. All they remark on any subject is, „Oh!“ „Is it?“ „Did he?" „Yes“, and „You don‘t say so!“
And, after ten minutes of such style of conversation, you edge up to the door, and slip out, and are surprised to find that the door, immediately closes behind you, and shuts itself, without your having touched it.
Half-an-hour later, you think you will try a pipe in the conservatory. The only chair in the place is occupied by Emily; and John Edward, if the language of clothes can be relied upon, has evidently been sitting on the floor. They do not speak, but they give you a look that says all that can be said in a civilised community; and you back out promptly and shut the door behind you.
You walk down the path, and as you pass the summer-house you glance in, and there are those two young idiots, huddled up into one corner of it; and they see you, and are evidently under the idea that, for some wicked purpose of your own, you are following them about.
„Why don‘t they have a special room for this sort of thing, and make people keep to it?“ you mutter; and you rush back to the hall and get your umbrella and go out.
