“I suppose you saw that Gilbert and I were having—what shall I call it?—a row when you came in?” said Claudia calmly, her hands busy among the silver. “Oh! we were in a most exciting part when the door opened.”
“All couples quarrel occasionally, don’t they?” he said lightly. “That’s part of the joys of married life, isn’t it? Marriage is a sort of licence to quarrel and afterwards make it up.”
“Oh! we don’t quarrel as a rule. Perhaps it would be better if we did. No, this was a special and particular quarrel, with a particular verse and chapter. You’ve heard of Jack’s asinine marriage, of course?”
“Yes it was in the papers when I landed.”
“What do you think about it?”
“Now, what is the good of asking me that? Do you want me to tell you what I wouldn’t have done, or what I think he should have done? What’s the use? He’s done what he wanted to do.”
“Ah! you take that attitude too.”
“What can one say about a man’s marriage, except perhaps to regret or be glad? I don’t pretend that if I were a boy’s father, I shouldn’t be horribly annoyed with him for doing a thing that will probably be a failure. It was a surprise to you?”
“Absolutely. You know the sort of man Jack is. There have always been Girlie Girls of sorts. Only marriage is a different proposition, isn’t it? ‘Blest be the tie that binds,’ et cetera.”
He nodded. “A great pity, of course. Have you seen her? What is she like?”