It seems to
me like the worst kind of waste."
"And I, on the other hand," said Herries gravely, "think that such
a life is almost as noble a one as I can well conceive."
His words sounded to me like a kind of pontifical blessing
pronounced at the end of a liturgical service; and, dinner now
being over, we adjourned to the library. Then Musgrave entertained
us with an account of a squabble he had lately had with a certain
editor, who had commissioned him to write a set of papers on
literary subjects, and then had objected to his treatment. Musgrave
had trailed his coat before the unhappy man, laid traps for him by
dint of asking him ingenuous questions, had written an article
elaborately constructed to parody derisively the editor's point of
view, had meekly submitted it as one of the series, and then, when
the harried wretch again objected, had confronted him with
illustrative extracts from his own letters. It was a mirthful if
not a wholly good-natured performance. Herries had listened with
ill-concealed disgust, and excused himself at the end of the
recital on the plea of work.
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