“No; he isn’t the least nonsensical. As I have told you, he goes and cures people when they are ill, instead of gassing about it. He’s a very good fisherman, too.”
Catherine could not help laughing. Maud mentioned this in a voice of such high approval.
“But isn’t that inconsistent?” she said. “I don’t think a man whose whole belief was in health and life should go and kill things.”
“Oh yes; I think it’s inconsistent,” said Maud, “and so does he. But did you ever see anybody who wasn’t inconsistent? I never did, and I never want to. He would be so extremely dull: you would know all about him at once.”
“And you don’t know all about Mr. Cochrane?” she asked.
“No; I should like to know more. I think I never met anyone so arresting. You are forced to attend, whether you like it or not.”
“And I gather you like it?” asked Catherine.
“Yes, certainly. I like vigour and certainty, and—oh, well, that sort of cleanness. He is like a nice boy at Cambridge, with all this extraordinary strength behind.”
Catherine could not help making mental comments on this.
“Ah, that attracts you?” she said. “It attracts me also. I like people to be strong and efficient; but, oh, Maud, how one’s heart goes out to them when they are helpless and enmeshed in what is stronger than they!”