"Pooh! I catch nothing!" she declared, "and you mustn't either. I'm sure you ought to be able to paint some beautiful pictures down here, Allan. And, Arnold, you shall have your writing-table out under the chestnut tree there. You will be so comfortable, and I'm sure you'll be able to finish your story splendidly."
"You are very anxious to dispose of us all here, Isobel," I remarked. "What do you propose to do yourself?"
"Oh, paint a little, I suppose," she answered, "and--think! There is so much to think about here."
"I am beginning to wonder," I said, "whether we did wisely to bring you."
"This thinking you are speaking of. It is bad!"
"You are foolish! Why should I not want to think?"
"If you begin to think you will begin to doubt," I answered, "and if you begin to doubt you will begin to understand. The person who once understands, you know, is never again really happy."
"I wish you wouldn't talk to me always as though I were a baby," she said thoughtfully.
I took her hand and made her sit down by my side.
"Come," I protested, "that is not at all fair. I can assure you that I was taking you most seriously. The people who get most out of life are the people who avoid the analytical attitude, who enjoy but who do not seek to understand, who worship form and external beauty without the desire to penetrate below to understand the inner meaning of what they find so beautiful."
"That," she said, "sounds a little difficult. But I do not see how people can enjoy meaningless things."
"The source of all beauty is disillusioning."
"Seriously," Mabane interrupted, "if this conversation develops I am going indoors. Does Arnold want to penetrate into the hidden meaning of that cricket's chirp--or is he going to give us the chemical formula for the smell of the honeysuckle?"
"He is rather trying to-night, isn't he?" she declared. "Listen! Is that someone going by?"
The footsteps of a man were clearly audible passing along the dusty little strip of road which fronted our cottage. Leaning forward I saw a tall, dark figure pass slowly by. From his height and upright carriage I thought that it must be the village policeman, and I called out good-night. My greeting met with no response. I shrugged my shoulders.