“That is a hasty generalization,” said Tom; “perhaps you did not understand it.”
“Well, I thought I did, and either I am not meant to get what I want, or I am one of those pathetic figures you alluded to.”
Tom laughed.
“I don’t think of you as a pathetic figure,” he said.
“Oh, one can’t appear as a pathetic figure in public,” she said. “Don’t let us forget that it is a comedy we are all acting.”
She spoke bitterly, and Tom was astonished at the hard ring of her voice. But before the pause became awkward Manvers broke it.
“There is nothing more serious than taking things seriously,” he said. “I never took anything seriously yet.”
“What a frightfully risky thing to say!” exclaimed Maud. “It’s as dangerous as saying you never had the toothache!”
Tom got up from his chair and perched himself on the edge of the balcony, and at that moment there came into Manvers’ mind the evening at Athens, when Tom had sat on the edge of the balcony, and the flash of lightning had illuminated Maud’s face. For the first moment he thought it was only one of those strange throbs of double consciousness which we all know so well, but the moment afterwards he recollected the prototype of the scene. And as if to confirm it in his mind, Maud went on—
“My acquiescence came quite suddenly, as suddenly as a flash of lightning.”