He glanced at Claudia. Miss Arbuthnot glanced too.
“So we can,” said the girl cheerfully. “I expect you can put me up to all sorts of things.”
“Dear me,” murmured Miss Arbuthnot, “the world has changed indeed since my day!”
“Your day?”
“It must have been a hundred years ago, for it would have held up many hands in horror at a young man and a young woman arriving by themselves at a country house.”
“Yes, it is improving,” said Claudia, with scorn, “it doesn’t think silly things as it did.” The day before this would have been very well, but to-day conscience gave a little tweak at her elbow, recalling her scene with Harry, and she became suddenly silent. Helen noticed the change, and Claudia saw that she noticed. Something made her turn quickly to Fenwick.
“I must go,” she said. “If you’re meaning to stay here, I wish you’d let me take your bicycle to the house. I want to look it over.” Miss Arbuthnot stood watching her from under the green boughs. Then she glanced at Fenwick. “She’s not going to fall in love with you,” she remarked.
“Aren’t you a little—in advance of the situation?”
“Not in advance of your thoughts. What attracts you? But I know.”
“You’re bewildering,” he observed rather savagely. “Not content with furnishing me with imaginary fancies, you provide an explanation of them.”