“Learn philosophy,” he said, with a yawn. “What does it matter?”
It is very well to be told to study philosophy, but there are times when the advice carries insult with it. Claudia jumped up and stood at the window. From thence she shot a glance at him. He was not looking at her, but strolling about the room, taking up a book here and there.
“They’ve made themselves pretty snug here,” he remarked at last. “Gertrude thoroughly understands how to rig up a hut.”
“I like the Marchmonts’ better,” said Claudia coldly.
“Do you? Tastes differ, but it isn’t really so good. Thornton, now, has dropped into comfortable quarters. By the way, somebody said that Miss Arbuthnot was due at the Thorntons’ this week.”
Claudia was cross, and, conscious of it, tried to swallow her displeasure.
“We met her yesterday,” she said, “and—didn’t you hear?—somebody else said that she was going to be married.”
He turned sharply.
“Married? Miss Arbuthnot? Don’t believe it.”
She opened her eyes at his tone.