“Thank you, no!” he said. “I should be glad to meet your friend some time when he is alone.”
It was the first intimation which Aynesworth had received of his companion’s sentiments as regards the other sex. Years afterwards, when his attitude towards them was often quoted as being one of the extraordinary features of an extraordinary personality, he remembered his perseverance on this occasion.
“You have not spoken to a woman for so many years,” he persisted. “Why not renew the experience? Nothing so humanizing, you know—not even cigarettes.”
Wingrave’s face fell, if possible into sterner lines. His tone was cold and hard.
“My scheme of life,” he said, “may be reconstructed more than once before I am satisfied. But I can assure you of this! There will be no serious place in it for women!”
Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders. He never doubted but that in a month of two his vis-a-vis would talk differently.
“Your scheme of life,” he repeated thoughtfully. “That sounds interesting! Have you any objection, I wonder, to telling me what manner of life you propose to lead?”
It was several moments before Wingrave answered him. He was smoking a cigar in a mechanical sort of way, but he obviously derived no pleasure from it. Yet Aynesworth noticed that some instinct had led him to choose the finest brand.
“Perhaps,” he said, letting his eyes rest coldly upon his questioner, “if I told you all that was in my mind you would waive your month’s salary and get back to your journalism!”
Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders.