The elder of the two--a freckled young giant named Jock--was always asking him strange conundrums, such as whether he was going to put the pot on for the Metropolitan--which conveyed no more idea to Austin's mind than if he had said it in Chinese; while Sandy, the younger, used to terrify him out of his wits by shouting out that Yorkshire had got the hump, or that Jobson was 'not out' for a century, or that wickets were cheap at the Oval.

In fact, the entire family bored him to extinction, though Aunt Charlotte, who had been an old school-friend of the mamma, sang their praises perseveringly, and said that the girls were dears.
Then there was the inevitable vicar, with a wife who piqued herself on her smart bonnets; a curate, who preached Socialism, wore knickerbockers, and belonged to the Fabian Society; a few unattached elderly ladies who had long outlived the reproach of their virginity; and just two or three other families with nothing particular to distinguish them one way or another.

It may readily be inferred, therefore, that Austin had not many associates.

There was really no one in the place who interested him in the very least, and the consequence was that he was generally regarded as unsociable.

And so he was--very unsociable.