"Oh." At last, vaguely, Patricia groped for his meaning. "What's she been doing?"
"It seems she ran into Felix Brow somewhere, and taxed him with saying she couldn't paint. Of course, poor Felix muffed the thing. Or perhaps, after all, he didn't. He said he didn't know she painted at all. Yes, I expect that wasn't so much of a muff as I thought it was at first. Damned insulting," Harry laughed appreciatively, thinking the speech over to himself before he continued: "He begged her not to betray him. That made Amy angry. Somebody had told her he'd said she painted with a besom. She'd prefer even that to being ignored. After all, she's no good as an artist. She's too stupid. And she makes these ridiculous scenes. There's some itch in her that makes her precipitate a row."
"I think she's conceited."
"Of course she is. Did you ever know a fool who wasn't? But she's worse, because she quarrels with people who mean kindly by her."
"I know." Rather despairingly, Patricia shook her head. "Did Felix really say that?"
"My dear! Poor old Felix wouldn't say anything so dull. After all, he is a wit. He'd say something worth saying, and worth repeating, or he wouldn't open his mouth."
"These witty things, though. Are they really said?"
Patricia's cynicism was too much for Harry. He laughed, looking down at her with an almost proprietary air of delight.
"I've heard a few of them. They're not always spontaneous, of course. But it's so absurd of Amy to quarrel with a man like Felix. It can only do her harm. He will say something about her now. I mean, he's a man to stand in with, not quarrel with."
Patricia was struck by this point.