iv
This chagrin was nothing less than loneliness. He did not easily make friends. His office work had so occupied his time and energy that Edgar had become rather shy in company. And so, while Claudia had a few friends, he had none. Claudia's friends seemed to him to be dull little boys and girls, for Claudia was a good deal younger than himself; and although he was amused when one or other of them was timidly pert to him they combined together to make him feel old. He had the reputation of a born celibate. Work, therefore, and more work, kept him rather staid. Edgar's fear was that he might dry up altogether before he had ever had time to live. With a warm heart, an eager sympathy, and a manner so reserved and shy that it gave the appearance of coldness, he was in danger—not, as he thought, of drying up, but of making some ridiculous plunge into emotionalism which might wreck his life.
Since the night of Monty's party, Edgar had thought much of Patricia. It did not please him to think of her in the rather sophisticated company of those who had gathered at Monty's. She was clearly delighted with these people, and they were a danger to her purity. Edgar thought more of Patricia during that week than of any other person. He liked her. He would have liked to help her—oh, always unobtrusively, so that she could not be embarrassed by his help;—but also not perhaps quite as impersonally as he supposed.
It was therefore with a start of delight and surprise that Edgar, upon arriving at Monty's house, found that Patricia was to be his neighbour at dinner.