“And one thing more.” Claudia came back to the table. “Whatever it is, you must understand that it is my own, absolutely my own doing.”
“I understand. For,” said Anne afterwards to Philippa, “when people are miserable, the best one can do for them is to let them be miserable in their own fashion.”
“Is she miserable, or only sore?”
“Only sore!” repeated Anne. “As if to be sore and shamed were not misery enough for a nature like Claudia’s! But I believe she really loved the man, and has been hard hit, poor child!”
“Well, it will do her no harm,” Philippa announced. “What a pity it is that nothing of the sort ever happened to Emily!”
“Philippa!”
“To be sure Emily has never taken her independence fiercely, has never, indeed, taken it at all, but she has always sighed for it. If once the thing had advanced towards her, Emily would have screamed and run away, while Claudia has been so entranced with its charms that she has been ready to take shadow for substance. Harry, now, Harry’s good stout sense would have allowed her a long tether, but no doubt Captain Fenwick jerked the rope too sharply.”
Claudia’s departure made no stir at Aldershot, because it was supposed that her visit had come naturally to an end; and if there were any who had gleams of suspicion as to the real cause, Fenwick was not a man to offer himself readily for questioning, and Mrs Leslie took the opportunity of going away for a week or two.
“Of course he and Helen Arbuthnot will make it up again, and then there will be a pretty talk!” she said irritably to her husband. “Well, I am sick of Arthur’s love affairs. I wash my hands of them for the future.”
“Helen Arbuthnot? But isn’t she engaged to young Pelham?”