Cornelia alone seemed wholly unmoved. She went on sketching imperturbably. But Robert was quite certain that she was not unconscious of the tableau. Janet broke the painful silence.
"Let's all three go together," she said, with one of her quick graceful gestures, half conciliatory, half pleading in its effect.
"Certainly, if Robert would like to come," said Claude, politely, but without enthusiasm.
Robert declined promptly. He explained that he had really been free only for the morning, and that, as long as Claude was to see Janet home, he had better utilize the late afternoon to hunt up another position. There were newspaper offices at which he ought to call. Before supper, he had a speech to rehearse. Perhaps Cornelia would be good enough to let him say it over to her.
"What kind of a speech am I letting myself in for?" asked Cornelia, half flattered, half nettled.
"Wait till you hear it."
"A sermon, I'll be bound," chanted this languid lady.
Yet, not at all languidly, she put her sketch aside and rose, adding:
"A sermon from Cato is as sweet as a billet-doux from any other man. Come, Araminta, let's show these men how quickly we can get ready."
They went into Cornelia's bedroom, leaving the two men alone. Claude said: