The Cat followed Edgard as he cleaned up the mess from the broken cup of tea and thought about the address book.  The Cat licked itself all over as Edgard pounded a few extra nails into the shutters closed over the windows and thought about the address book.  The Cat sat atop the empty china cabinet as Edgard exercised his grimaces in front of the bathroom mirror and thought about the address book.  The Cat didn't so much as blink as as shouted his curmudgeon phrases at it for practice.
    
"Dadblast the varmints!  If I've told you once, I told you a thousand and two times to leave me in peace."
    
And:
    
"If Bejeebus loves the little children, then go to HIS house to play!"
    
And the piéce de resistance:
    
"You kids clear off my property and take your ugly little sister with you!"
    
The Cat seemed unperturbed.  And still Edgard thought about the address book.
    
"It's only a book," he said, opening it.  "Just empty pages."
    
Inside, dozens of pages neatly printed waited to be filled with the names of family, friends, and business acquaintances.  People to send Nameday and Giftmas cards to.  Emergency contact information should he fall down the Buggeroff cliff side and be taken to the morgue, or worse, to the hospital.
    
"And I don't have anyone to inscribe in here," he told the Cat.  "Not a single solitary name."
    
It should have been his greatest moment of triumph.  But Edgard didn't reach for the celebratory bottle of beer in the icebox.  Didn't prance about his living room in his shirttails and howl at the moon in triumph.
    
He went to consult The Book to see what wisdom it contained.  There it was, black and white in Chapter One: Basics of Hermitry:

A professional, accredited hermit has no need of the following items: Family.  Friends.  Business acquaintances.  Therefore, a hermit may easily burn his/her address book, assured in the knowledge that he/she no longer has need of such information.

Edgard closed The Book of Hermitry and set it on the table next to the address book.
    
"Just as I thought.  I don't need this lot of rubbish.  I don't need anyone.  Remember Emmalinza."
    
Remember Emmalinza indeed!  That woman nattered on for fourteen years without stopping to take a breath.  Started with "I do" and never looked back.
    
"She talked enough for two," he reminded the Cat.  "Praise Bejeebus, that's over."
    
Edgard shifted his gaze from The Book to the other book.  Left to right.  Back and forth. 
    
"Into the rubbish bin it goes."
    
The Cat didn't seem convinced.
    
Edgard picked up the address book.  Stared at it.  Pulled on his ragged gray sweater and walked through the parlor to grab a cane from the umbrella stand.  Then he opened the front door and found the Cat matching him step for step. Together, they began the trek down the mountainside and into the village of Tweedhern.