"No, oh no! I've been so busy. That sort of thing is good in moderation, and I'm glad you keep it up."
"Oh yes, in a way ... but no, what am I saying? I don't really keep it up. It was all two years ago. I haven't done much of anything since--anything good. Things, you know," he went on, as he stared into the fire, "haven't gone just--I mean, it's been rather stupid--stupid, and worse, I'm afraid; I don't seem good for much somehow."
The familiar Oxford room, with its order, and books, and shaded light, seemed so shut in, so far from the friendless world in which he lived, that for the moment Arthur almost forgot the lonely distrust, the derision of everything, which his life had taught him. "I suppose it's fate," he added, staring into the fire, as if he were half-ashamed of what he was saying. "I suppose it _is_ fate--but still, I wonder--sometimes it seems if--that if I had had a chance, if anybody--" He waited a minute indecisively. But Austen said nothing. Arthur glanced at him, and then, flushing slightly, he got up. "But I must be going now," he said, with a curious change and coldness in his voice; "I have a train to catch."
"Oh, don't go," Austen replied awkwardly, "don't go just yet. I'm sorry to hear what you say; but don't you think, if you will allow me to say so, don't you think it is a mistake to blame fate for such things? If you would tell me more--"
"Oh, thanks," Arthur said, "I think I must be going."
"But you were going to say something," Austen urged, "and if you would tell me more, I might be able to help you, or give you advice at least."
Arthur glanced at him quickly. Then suddenly the idea seemed to amuse him, and coming back a step or two he said, with a smile, "Tell you more, Austen? Oh, I was only going to tell you what everyone knows, that I've turned out a bad lot, that's all."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Austen, in a rather shocked voice; "I hope it's not so bad."
Arthur smiled pleasantly. "Oh well, you know, it _is_ pretty bad, I'm afraid."
"What do I mean? Oh, all the usual things--bad company, gambling, and women."
Austen looked still more shocked. "But surely you could change if you wanted to!"
"I suppose I might, if I wanted to," Arthur said, playing with his riding whip. "But I'm afraid I don't want to. What's the good?"