"Still what?"

--"I dread the life that lies before me! I dread the life without
society, without ambition, without change--the dull house--the bounded
sphere of action--the bondage.... But of what use is it to trouble you
with these things?"

"This use, that it does you good to tell, and me to listen. Sympathy,
like mercy, blesseth him that gives and him that takes; and if I cannot
actually help you, I am, at all events, thankful to be taken out of
myself. Go on--tell me more of your prospects. Have you no acquaintance
at Saxonholme whose society will make the place pleasant to you? No
boyish friends? No pretty cousins? No first-loves, from amongst whom to
choose a wife in time to come?"

I shook my head sadly.

"Did I not tell you that my father was a misanthrope? He visits no one,
unless professionally. We have no friends and no relations."

"Humph! that's awkward. However, it leaves you free to choose your own
friends, when you go back. A medical man need never be without a
visiting connection. His very profession puts a thousand opportunities
in his way."

"That is true; but--"

"But what?"