ment in that either, he dropped it, but did not depart.
"You don't give us much of your company, Mrs. Huntingdon," observed he, after a brief pause, during which I went on coolly mixing and tempering my colours; "and I cannot wonder at it, for you must be heartily sick of us all. I myself am so thoroughly ashamed of my companions, and so weary of their irrational conversation and pursuits—now that there is no one to humanize them and keep them in check, since you have justly abandoned us to our own devices—that I think I shall presently withdraw from amongst them—probably within this week—and I cannot suppose you will regret my departure."
He paused. I did not answer.
"Probably," he added, with a smile, "your only regret on the subject will be, that I do not take all my companions along with me. I flatter myself, at times, that though among them, I am not of them; but it is natural that you
