“I want a cup of coffee, and I’m going to have it!” said she. “Fair play doesn’t interest me. Women aren’t expected to play fair.”
“On the contrary,” said Paul, “a man has no respect for the type of woman that—”
And so on, about sharing work and play and being comrades. Christine listened with great delight. So severely eloquent was Paul, so reasonable did his arguments seem, that she expected Miss Banks to be abashed. But—in the end, Paul made the coffee.
Christine went quietly back into her room, with an odd smile on her lips.
“Very well!” she said to herself. “I’m not too old to learn!”
When Paul came home that evening, the door was opened by a trained nurse.
“Is she—worse?” he cried.
“Oh, no!” said the nurse pleasantly. “Your wife’s resting comfortably; but she’s suffering from nervous shock, and the doctor thinks she’d better take a good, long rest.”
He found Christine resting comfortably, to be sure, and not much inclined to talk; so he left her, saying that he would come up again after dinner. He went into the sitting room, where Miss Banks was reading and eating some fudge that she had made.
“Good evening,” he said.