"What! suspicious already?" he said to himself.
"You may as well come and dine with us, Mr. Fairfax, if you have nothing
better to do," said Mr. Granger, with his lofty air, as much as to say, "I
suppose I ought to be civil to this young man."
"It is quite impossible that I could have anything better to do," replied
Mr. Fairfax.
"In that case, if you will kindly give your arm to my daughter, we'll move
off at once. I have wished Mr. Wooster good-afternoon on your part, Clary.
I suppose we may as well walk to the station."
"If you please."
And in this manner they departed, Miss Granger just touching George
Fairfax's coat-sleeve with the tips of her carefully-gloved fingers;
Clarissa and her husband walking before them, arm in arm. Mr. Fairfax did
his utmost to make himself agreeable during that short walk to the station;
so much so that Sophia unbent considerably, and was good enough to inform
him of her distaste for these frivolous pleasures, and of her wonder that
other people could go on from year to year with an appearance of enjoyment.
"I really don't see what else one can do with one's life, Miss Granger,"
her companion answered lightly. "Of course, if a man had the genius of a
Beethoven, or a Goethe, or a Michael Angelo--or if he were 'a heaven-born
general,' like Clive, it would be different; he would have some purpose and
motive in his existence. But for the ruck of humanity, what can they do but
enjoy life, after their lights?"
If all the most noxious opinions of Voltaire, and the rest of the
Encyclopedists, had been expressed in one sentence, Miss Granger could not
have looked more horrified than she did on hearing this careless remark of
Mr.
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