his declining years humouring lunatics. If one was prepared to do that one could get paid for it as some sort of keeper or attendant in a madhouse. He wasnât yet clear that Hanwell Court was entirely, or even preponderantly, such a receptacle. It certainly sheltered a number of persons of markedly idiosyncratic tastes. But there was nothing very wrong with that. In the present age, when nearly everybody was being dismally pulped into a replica of everybody else, an institution standing up for oddity had much to commend it. Honeybath (who believed himself to be a stoutly unconventional type) wasnât going to come to premature conclusions. He bade the talented inventor of the homing golf-ball a cordial farewell, and walked on.
There was much that had to be judged entirely agreeable. The gardens were maintained in admirable order, and were so extensive and at the same time so variously secluded that any number of strollers could suppose themselves to be in solitary possession of the entire terrain. One could imagine the park to be oneâs own as well â and the house itself, for that matter, which every now and then appeared in one stately aspect or another as the various vistas on it opened up. This fictitious sense of ownership, although patently absurd, was surely innocent, and if one could pay for it among other amenities â well, why not? One canât extract such a feel from a âluxuryâ hotel, and here it was on tap for approximately the same money.
Honeybath, although certain that he wouldnât care to live permanently in this childish state of mind, found it amusing to luxuriate in for a few moments now. He was moving down the central path in an area somewhat formally conceived in the Italian taste, with high, square-clipped hedges on either hand, and here and there niches carved out of the foliage and framing miscellaneous stone urns, coffers, and blurred and eroded pieces of garden statuary. The vista, which was comparatively short, was closed by a well-proportioned little structure consisting of a circle of Ionic columns and a low domed roof. This frankly useless object, which would scarcely have afforded shade for a single garden chair, struck Honeybath as wholly pleasing, and he determined to walk on and round it before returning to the house. He had moved on a few yards, and was reflecting again on the ease with which solitude could be gained here, when he became aware that he wasnât in solitude after all. A figure had emerged from the scant shelter of the temple (or whatever it was conceived to be) and was now moving towards him. It was a man who could be distinguished as in middle age; and that he was attired with a somewhat obtrusive appropriateness to his rural situation could be inferred from his wearing (prematurely, as the season went) an immaculate Panama hat. Honeybath noted this, was conscious of the man hesitating for a moment, and then saw that he was again contemplating nothing but the natural scene â or the natural scene as straightened out, lopped, and elegantly adorned by human agency. The man in the Panama hat had vanished.
Since there appeared to be only unbroken and impenetrable walls of greenery on either hand between the temple and the spot where Honeybath stood, this was distinctly perplexing. The explanation appeared, however, when he had moved on a further dozen yards and discovered a narrow aperture in the hedge, undetectable until one was hard upon it. The man with the hat must have dodged quite rapidly through this. It wasnât Honeybathâs business to follow and investigate. Nevertheless, he did so â merely because there lurked in him an impulse of juvenile curiosity which was always liable to bob up on sudden challenge. He walked through the gap, and confronted another hedge. He turned to his right, and yet a further hedge was before him; he turned again, and immediately realized what he had stumbled upon; he was in a cunningly
There was much that had to be judged entirely agreeable. The gardens were maintained in admirable order, and were so extensive and at the same time so variously secluded that any number of strollers could suppose themselves to be in solitary possession of the entire terrain. One could imagine the park to be oneâs own as well â and the house itself, for that matter, which every now and then appeared in one stately aspect or another as the various vistas on it opened up. This fictitious sense of ownership, although patently absurd, was surely innocent, and if one could pay for it among other amenities â well, why not? One canât extract such a feel from a âluxuryâ hotel, and here it was on tap for approximately the same money.
Honeybath, although certain that he wouldnât care to live permanently in this childish state of mind, found it amusing to luxuriate in for a few moments now. He was moving down the central path in an area somewhat formally conceived in the Italian taste, with high, square-clipped hedges on either hand, and here and there niches carved out of the foliage and framing miscellaneous stone urns, coffers, and blurred and eroded pieces of garden statuary. The vista, which was comparatively short, was closed by a well-proportioned little structure consisting of a circle of Ionic columns and a low domed roof. This frankly useless object, which would scarcely have afforded shade for a single garden chair, struck Honeybath as wholly pleasing, and he determined to walk on and round it before returning to the house. He had moved on a few yards, and was reflecting again on the ease with which solitude could be gained here, when he became aware that he wasnât in solitude after all. A figure had emerged from the scant shelter of the temple (or whatever it was conceived to be) and was now moving towards him. It was a man who could be distinguished as in middle age; and that he was attired with a somewhat obtrusive appropriateness to his rural situation could be inferred from his wearing (prematurely, as the season went) an immaculate Panama hat. Honeybath noted this, was conscious of the man hesitating for a moment, and then saw that he was again contemplating nothing but the natural scene â or the natural scene as straightened out, lopped, and elegantly adorned by human agency. The man in the Panama hat had vanished.
Since there appeared to be only unbroken and impenetrable walls of greenery on either hand between the temple and the spot where Honeybath stood, this was distinctly perplexing. The explanation appeared, however, when he had moved on a further dozen yards and discovered a narrow aperture in the hedge, undetectable until one was hard upon it. The man with the hat must have dodged quite rapidly through this. It wasnât Honeybathâs business to follow and investigate. Nevertheless, he did so â merely because there lurked in him an impulse of juvenile curiosity which was always liable to bob up on sudden challenge. He walked through the gap, and confronted another hedge. He turned to his right, and yet a further hedge was before him; he turned again, and immediately realized what he had stumbled upon; he was in a cunningly
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