"You misapprehend me, my dear Milburd. What I would say about deafness, is this--" (_exit BELLA, quietly_,)--"is this--that the loss of the sense of hearing----"
"Is seldom the loss of hearing sense," interrupts Boodels, at the door.
"To a certain extent," continues the Professor, who has Milburd, now, as it were, in his grasp. "Boodels, although putting it lightly, was right. Sense is uncommon--"
"'Specially common sense," I observe. Being my first remark for some time. But I like the Professor; and his philosophic views have an interest for me that they evidently do not possess for natures which will be always butterflying about.
"You are right," says the Professor turning to me, whereupon Milburd rises quietly, and gets to the door. (_Exit MILBURD._) "But common sense, though, I admit, wrongly designated, does not convey to us a positive pleasure. The question, which we are considering--namely, whether to be deaf, is a happiness or not--should be treated in the Socratic method, and the whole reasoning reduced to the simplest syllogisms."
Through the window, I see Bella going out with Milburd. Adelaide is with Boodels. Chilvern is pointing at me: they are all laughing. I smile _to_ them, and at them, as much as to say, "Bless you! I'm with you in spirit, but the Professor has my body." Byrton I see meeting them. He has his driving coat on. Hang it, they're going for some excursion without me.
_Thoughts while the Professor is talking on the pleasures of deafness._--Where are they going to? Why didn't they tell me? I think Bella _might_ have given me some notion. If she's with Milburd, won't he make fun of _me_? Is he trying to cut me out, or not? If "yes," it's deuced unfair of him. Bella doesn't look back, or make any sign to me to come. If I joined them now, should I be _de trop_? No. How can I? It's all _our_ party generally. They disappear into the shrubbery.
Professor suddenly asks me, "That _you'll_ admit, I suppose."
_Happy Thought._--(As I haven't heard a single word of what he's been saying, to reply guardedly), "Well, to a certain extent, perhaps--but--" then I pause, and frown, as if considering it, whatever it is.
The Professor is lost in amazement. "But," he exclaims, "you _must_ admit _that_. By what theory of approximation can you show that we do not attain to such perfectibility of number; unless you would say, as I _have_ heard advanced by the Budengen school, that the expression is but a formula adapted to our human experience."