SUNDAY EVENING
"I should like a life in the wilds," said Mrs. McKenna thoughtfully. "It's a pity I can't go with you."
"Yes," said Archie politely.
"But it wouldn't suit me; I should be terrible—luxuriate, over-develop."
"I thought that was what you wanted, Fanny," said Gilda unwisely. "'Off with everything,' you know."
"Not when there was nobody about. What would it matter if everything was off or on? Nobody would be the better for it. What's the good of being sincere when there's nobody to be sincere at?"
"There'd be Archie."
"Well, anyway, there's William," said Mrs. McKenna conclusively. "And I can't go. I'm afraid I don't love Archie enough. But he will be very lonely—won't you, Archie?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Archie evasively, rolling his head about among the cushions. "I suppose so. I suppose one will live a good bit in the past and future if one has got too much time to think and not enough to do in the present."
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