CHAPTER XVIII
A PHILOSOPHER IN A QUANDARY
Clarissa carried a double burden the next day, but she breasted the keen morning air so briskly that whatever her own thoughts upon the subject she gave no sign of her increasing responsibilities. Yet Cupid sat perched upon the pack which Philidor had been at such pains to fasten. Yvonne alone of the three was out of humor and she moved along silently, suppressing the joyous mood of her companion by answers in monosyllables and a forbidding expression which defied conciliation. As nothing seemed to please her, Philidor, too, relapsed into silence and swinging his stick, walked on ahead, whistling gaily. But that only provoked her mood the more, and when she overtook him she made him stop.
His silence seemed even more exasperating.
"Oh, if you have nothing to say to me," she said petulantly at last,
"I'd much rather you whistled."
He glanced at her before replying.
"You motto of the Golden Rose needs amending," he said.
"What would you add?"
"Patience," he laughed.
"Clarissa is patient," she sniffed. "The bon Dieu preserve me from the patient man."