He grudged it, because in
a private sort of way it lowered his estimation of his own stoical
self-sufficiency; it hurt something proud in the withdrawing-room of
his soul. But though he talked little, he had the power of
contemplation--often found in men of decided character, with a tendency
to liver. Once in Nepal, where he had gone to shoot, he had passed
a month quite happily with only a Ghoorka servant who could speak no
English. To those who asked him if he had not been horribly bored, he
had always answered: "Not a bit; did a lot of thinking."
With Miltoun's trouble he had the professional sympathy of a brother and
the natural intolerance of a confirmed bachelor. Women were to him very
kittle-cattle. He distrusted from the bottom of his soul those who had
such manifest power to draw things from you. He was one of those men
in whom some day a woman might awaken a really fine affection; but
who, until that time, would maintain the perfectly male attitude to the
entire sex, and, after it, to all the sex but one. Women were, like
Life itself, creatures to be watched, carefully used, and kept duly
subservient. The only allusion therefore that he made to Miltoun's
trouble was very sudden.
"Old man, I hope you're going to cut your losses."
The words were followed by undisturbed silence: But passing Mrs.
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