She flung her hat on the floor, ruffled her hair, and threw herself into an easy chair. Eustace was staring.
“Polly and Geoff——I don’t grasp it. You must be mistaken.”
“You mustn’t breathe it. But legally we are one, and there’s no harm in telling you. I think it’s serious with both.” She had no intention of betraying Polly further, but the desire to talk of the momentous possibility was irresistible and Eustace was safe.
“ ‘Legally we are one.’ ” He repeated the words automatically; then recovered himself and drew on his pipe. “I never heard of a more brilliant example of mismating. Last about a year, I should think.”
“You don’t know Polly. She can be anything she likes. And love does wonders.”
“Oh!” He almost dropped his pipe. “That’s an odd statement to come from you. What do you know about it?”
“My mind works. And I’ve seen a good deal of life, first and last.”
“Possibly. But the word ‘love’ sounds queer on your lips. And I don’t believe it’s anything but a word to you. I doubt if you have any conception of the meaning of it.”
He watched her intently. Most of her old inhibitions and prejudices had dissolved. She was more adaptable, more tolerant, more responsive, more what she might have been had destiny been kinder. But how deeply had the new life changed her? She was remarkably like the old Gita still.
She looked at him with a brilliant smile. “Some stylists say you should never use a long word when a short one will serve, nor a derivative if you can find a Saxon. Don’t agree with them, as I’ve always thought Swinburne’s ‘Chastelard’ as cold and dry as a bone. But hack words are convenient, that’s all, though one may be bored to death with them. I wonder the word ‘love’ has any meaning left in it. You’re so clever, I should think you’d invent a new vocabulary.”