Do not you think, taking the dust and the blue-bottles into consideration, that it would be kinder to leave him in peace in his arm-chair ?" "No, I do not," reply I, flatly.

"I suppose he knows best what he likes himself; and why a strong, hearty man in the prime of life should be supposed to wish to spend a whole summer afternoon nodding in an arm-chair, any more than you would wish it yourself, I am at a loss to inquire!" The suggestion has irritated me so much that for the moment I forget the traveling-bag.
"When I am as old as he," replies the young man, coldly, shaking the ash off his cigar, "if I ever am, which I doubt, and have knocked about the world for as many years, and imperiled my liver in as many climates, and sent as many Russians, and Chinamen, and Sikhs to glory as he has, I shall think myself entitled to sit in an arm-chair--yes, and sleep in it too--all day, if I feel inclined." I do not answer, partly because I am exasperated, partly because at this moment my eye is caught by an object in a shop-window--a traveling-bag, with its mouth invitingly open, displaying all manner of manly conveniences.

I hastily furl my green umbrella, and step in.

My squire does not follow me.

I hardly notice the fact, but suppose that he is standing outside in the sun.