The truth was that Austin simply had no use for any of them; his life was complete without them, it contained no niche into which they could ever fit.

Lubin was a far more congenial comrade.

Lubin never bothered him about football, or cricket, or horse-racing, never worried him with invitations to horrible picnics, never outraged his sensibilities in any way.

On the contrary, Lubin rather contributed to his happiness by the care he took of the flowers, and the intelligence he showed in carrying out all Austin's elaborately conveyed instructions.

Why, Lubin himself was a sort of Daphnis--in a humble way.