‘Jealous—of that woman!’ was the thought in her mind, but she had self-control enough to let it remain a thought. She merely smiled.
‘Did you learn nothing but Greek,’ pursued Otho, ‘when you were at college?’
‘Why, of course, you goose. What would be the use of learning nothing but Greek?’
‘Well, I certainly never could see the use of learning it—for me, at any rate,’ said Otho. ‘But I mean, didn’t you go in for French, and music, and those things?’
‘Well, I should hardly ask such a question as that. One “goes in,” as you call it, for French as naturally as for English. Aunt Emily always had some French person or other about. But Greek was a labour of love.’
‘It seems to me that you must be what they call a blue,’ said Otho, vaguely.
‘Does it? I’m not conscious of being of a different complexion from other young women. Aunt Emily, poor dear, thought the reverse. She considered that I was brought up too much with Paul, and altogether too like a boy. She always said that if I had mixed more with girls I should have been more alive to—oh, well, she thought it would have been better for me.’
‘She thought that if you had been a bit more like other girls, you wouldn’t have let that parson slip, but would have married him instead of coming rambling off here, where you don’t know a creature, and have to pass your time reading the “Iliad”; and I can tell you I agree with her,’ said Otho.
‘Let him slip? I never tried to catch him,’ said Miss Askam, touchy, despite her masculine education, upon this point.
‘I never said you did,’ remarked Otho. ‘However, I’m glad you are intellectual and independent, for now I need not apologise for leaving you alone. I’m going away this evening.’