“And his wife doesn’t care for him,” Claire went on. “Fancy Winn’s wife not caring for him! Poor woman!”
“Why do you pity her?” Miss Marley inquired with interest.
“Well,” said Claire, with a sudden dimple, “I was only thinking I shouldn’t like to be Winn’s wife if he didn’t care for me; and then I was thinking that if he didn’t, I’d make him!”
“Well, that effort doesn’t seem required of you,” said Miss Marley.
“No, but it only shows you that I’m much the most wicked, doesn’t it?” asked Claire, with some pride.
“The points against Winn,” Miss Marley said gravely, “are his age, his experience, and his wife. I feel bound to tell you that there are points against him.”
Claire frowned.
“Winn isn’t really old,” she explained, “because he’s only done things all his life — games or his work; it hasn’t been people. People make you old, especially when you are looking after them. He’s never really grown up; and as for experience, I don’t think you experience anything unless you care about it. It hurts me sometimes to hear him talk about his wife. He’s never had her; he’s only had me. I don’t explain very well, but I know it’s true, because he told me things about loving which showed me he’d never had anything before except dogs — and Peter; and Peter’s awfully young, and dogs can’t answer back. You can’t grow up on dogs.”
Miss Marley tacitly admitted the limitations of canine influence; but she said:
“Still, you know, he’s not kept to his own code; that’s what one must judge people by. I’m sure he’d tell you himself that a married man should leave girls alone.”