Just remember what my life used to be when I was in Scotland--and look at my life now! No Mount Morven; no model farm to look after; no pleasant Highland neighbors; I can't go to my brother while he is leading his present life; I have hurt Catherine's feelings; I have lost dear little Kitty; I am not obliged to earn my living (more's the pity); I don't care about politics; I have a pleasure in eating harmless creatures, but no pleasure in shooting them.

What is there left for me to do, but to try change of scene, and go roaming around the world, a restless creature without an object in life?
Have I done something wrong again?
It isn't the pepper this time--and yet you're looking at me as if I was trying your temper." The French side of Mr.Sarrazin's nature had got the better of him once more.

He pointed indignantly to a supreme preparation of fowl on his friend's plate.

"Do I actually see you picking out your truffles, and putting them on one side ?" he asked.
"Well," Randal acknowledged, "I don't care about truffles." Mr.Sarrazin rose, with his plate in his hand and his fork ready for action.

He walked round the table to his friend's side, and reverently transferred the neglected truffles to his own plate.