Constance bowed ironically. Then for the first time, since their conversation began, it might have been seen that she had annoyed him.
“Friends are not allowed to doubt each other’s statements!” he said with animation. “You see I still persist that you allowed me that name, when—you refused me a better. As to my work, ask any of my friends. Talk to Meyrick. He is a dear boy, and will tell you anything you like. He and I ‘dig’ together in Beaumont Street. My schools are now only three weeks off. I work four hours in the morning. Then I play till six—and get in another six hours between then and 1 a.m.”
“Wonderful!” said Constance coolly. “Your ways at Cannes were different. It’s a mercy there’s no Monte Carlo within reach.”
“I play when I play, and work when I work!” he said with emphasis. “The only thing to hate and shun always—is moderation.”
“And yet you call yourself a classic! Well, you seem to be sure of your First. At least Uncle Ewen says so.”
“Ewen Hooper? He is a splendid fellow—a real Hellenist. He and I get on capitally. About your aunt—I am not so sure.”
“Nobody obliges you to know her,” was the tranquil reply.
“Ah!—but if she has the keeping of you! Are you coming to tea with me and my people? I have got a man in college to lend me his rooms. My mother and sister will be up for two nights. Very inconsiderate of them—with my schools coming on—but they would do it. Thursday?—before the Eights? Won’t my mother be chaperon enough?”
“Certainly. But it only puts off the evil day.”
“When I must grovel to Mrs. Hooper?—if I am to see anything of you? Splendid! You are trying to discipline me again—as you did at Cannes!”