contemporary abstract painting

What vain weather-cocks we are! I, who had determined to hold myself independent of all social intercourse, and thanked my stars that, at length, I had lighted on a spot where it was next to impracticable--I, weak wretch, after maintaining till dusk a struggle with low spirits and solitude, was finally compelled to strike my colours; and, under pretence of gaining information concerning the necessities of my establishment, I desired Mrs Dean, when she brought in supper, to sit down while I ate it; hoping sincerely she would prove a regular gossip, and either rouse me to animation or lull me to sleep by her talk.
`You have lived here a considerable time,' I commenced; `did you not say sixteen years?'
`Eighteen, sir: I came, when the mistress was married, to wait on her; after she died, the master retained me for his housekeeper.'
`Indeed.'
There ensued a pause. She was not a gossip, I feared; unless about her own affairs, and those could hardly interest me. However, having studied for an interval, with a fist on either knee, and a cloud of meditation over her ruddy countenance, she ejaculated:
`Ah, times are greatly changed since then!'
`Yes,' I remarked, `you've seen a good many alterations, I suppose?'
`I have: and troubles too,' she said.