At the door of the Pantheon they were joined by Mr Arnott and Sir Robert Floyer, whom Cecilia now saw with added aversion: they entered the great room during the second act of the Concert, to which as no one of the party but herself had any desire to listen, no sort of attention was paid; the ladies entertaining themselves as if no Orchestra was in the room, and the gentlemen, with an equal disregard to it, struggling for a place by the fire, about which they continued hovering till the music was over. Soon after they were seated, Mr Meadows, sauntering towards them, whispered something to Mrs Mears, who, immediately rising, introduced him to Cecilia; after which, the place next to her being vacant, he cast himself upon it, and lolling as much at his ease as his situation would permit, began something like a conversation with her. “Have you been long in town, ma'am?” “No, Sir.” “This is not your first winter?” “Of being in town, it is.” “Then you have something new to see; O charming! how I envy you!--Are you pleased with the Pantheon?” “Very much; I have seen no building at all equal to it.” “You have not been abroad. Travelling is the ruin of all happiness! There's no looking at a building here after seeing Italy.” “Does all happiness, then, depend upon the sight of buildings?” said Cecilia, when, turning towards her companion, she perceived him yawning, with such evident inattention to her answer, that not chusing to interrupt his reverie, she turned her head another way. For some minutes he took no notice of this; and then, as if suddenly recollecting himself, he called out hastily, “I beg your pardon, ma'am, you were saying something?” “No, Sir, nothing worth repeating.” “O pray don't punish me so severely as not to let me hear it!” Cecilia, though merely not to seem offended at his negligence, was then again beginning an answer, when, looking at him as she spoke, she perceived that he was biting his nails with so absent an air, that he appeared not to know he had asked any question. She therefore broke off, and left him to his cogitation. Sometime after he addressed her again, saying, “Don't you find this place extremely tiresome, ma'am?” “Yes, Sir,” said she, half laughing, “it is, indeed, not very entertaining!” “Nothing is entertaining,” answered he, “for two minutes together. Things are so little different one from another, that there is no making pleasure out of any thing. We go the same dull round for ever; nothing new, no variety! all the same thing over again! Are you fond of public places, ma'am?” “Yes, Sir, _soberly_, as Lady Grace says.” “Then I envy you extremely, for you have some amusement always in your own power. How desirable that is!” “And have not you the same resources?”