CHAPTER VII
Portrait of a Gentleman
They walked in silence for a little, until they had left the
house and gardens well behind them. In front of them and to the
right the park dipped and then rose slowly, shutting out the rest
of the world. A thick belt of trees on the left divided them
from the main road.
"Ever been here before?" said Antony suddenly.
"Oh, rather. Dozens of times."
"I meant just here where we are now. Or do you stay indoors and
play billiards all the time?"
"Oh Lord, no!"
"Well, tennis and things. So many people with beautiful parks
never by any chance use them, and all the poor devils passing by
on the dusty road think how lucky the owners are to have them,
and imagine them doing all sorts of jolly things inside." He
pointed to the right. "Ever been over there?"
Bill laughed, as if a little ashamed.
"Well, not very much. I've often been along here, of course,
because it's the short way to the village."
"Yes .... All right; now tell me something about Mark."
"What sort of things?"
"Well, never mind about his being your host, or about your being
a perfect gentleman, or anything like that.
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