But the trickery of the little wretch! It's that I can't get over." Meanwhile Austin meditated on the little episode on his side, as he made his way along the road.

"I daresay dear old auntie was a bit put out," he thought, "but she brought it all upon herself.

She doesn't see that everybody must live his own life, that it's a duty one owes to oneself to realise one's own individuality.

Now it's _bad_ for me to associate with people I detest--bad for my soul's development; just as bad as it is for anyone's body to eat food that doesn't agree with him.

Those MacTavishes poison my soul just as arsenic poisons the body, and I won't have my soul poisoned if I can help it.