This particular truth with regard to Geoffry’s estimate of Patricia impressed itself on Christopher with disagreeable persistency during the walk, and renewed that nearly forgotten fear that had come to him during the ride from Milton in the spring.
So presently he found himself watching her inner attitude towards her accepted lover in the forbidden way, without sufficient knowledge of what he was actually doing to stop it. Perhaps some subtle appreciation of this in the subconscious realm, roused a like uneasiness and dissatisfaction in Patricia herself. 271
At all events Christopher soon found grounds for no immediate fear and left the future to itself.
“Shall we go on?” he suggested, marking how her hands grew white as she pressed them together.
She negatived the proposal, imperiously saying they had only just got there and she wanted to rest.
“You are getting lazy, Patricia,” said her lover gravely. “I warn you, it’s the one unpardonable sin in my eyes.”
“You mistake restlessness for energy,” she retorted quickly. “I’m never lazy. Ask Christopher.”
Geoffry did no such thing. He continued to fling stones at a mark on the lower lip of the chalk pit.
“It’s fairly hard to distinguish, anyhow,” said Christopher, thoughtfully. “There are people who call Nevil lazy, whereas he isn’t. He only takes all his leisure in one draught.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s simple enough, isn’t it? I never feel lazy so long as I’m doing something—moving about.”