"I am a domestic being, Miss Pethram, and find the domestic scenery of England sufficiently beautiful to satisfy my artistic longings. New Zealand, I have been told, is an uncivilised country, full of horrid woods and wild beasts."
"There are no wild beasts at all," replied Kaituna indignantly, "and the bush is not horrid. As to it being uncivilised, that is the mistake you English make."
"Oh, the contempt in the term 'you English,'" interjected Toby, impudently.
"We have cities, railways, theatres, musical societies, shops, and everything else necessary to make life pleasant. That is civilisation, I suppose. We have also great plains, majestic mountains, splendid rivers, undulating pasture lands and what not. This is uncivilised--if you like to call it so. England is pretty--oh yes, very pretty, but tame like a garden. One gets tired of always living in a garden. A garden is nature's drawing-room. I don't say a word against England, for I like it very much, but at times I feel stifled by the narrowness of the place. England is very beautiful, yes; but New Zealand," concluded Miss Pethram with conviction, "New Zealand is the most beautiful place in the whole world."
"My dear," said Mrs. Valpy in a patronising manner, "are you not going a little too far? I've no doubt the place you come from is very nice, very nice indeed, but to compare it with England is ridiculous. You have no city, I think, like London. No, no! London is cosmopolitan, yes--quite so."
Having stated this plain truth, Mrs. Valpy looked round with a fat smile of triumph and resumed her knitting, while Tommy dashed into the conversation with slangy vivacity.
"Oh, I say, you know, New Zealand's a place where you can have a high old time, but London's the place for larks."
"Why not the country," said Clendon drily, "the morning lark."
"Oh, I don't mean that sort of lark," interrupted Tommy ingeniously, "the evenin' lark; my style, you know. Waltzin', flirtin', talkin', jolly rather."
"You move in the highest circles, Tommy," said Kaituna, who was a somewhat satirical damsel. "You drop your 'g's.'"
"Or your money," said Toby, lighting a fresh cigarette. "I don't know what we're all talking about."
"I think," observed Mrs. Valpy in a geographical style, "we were discussing the Islands of New Zealand."