“And you counsel me to do likewise—to emulate her mode of living?”
He was lounging in the library of her flat, content with himself and all the world. He had borne a lot of “chipping” on his marriage, which was now dying down. But in spite of his lethargic egotism, he caught a look now in Claudia’s eyes that made his dull brain work a little. What had some woman been saying about Claudia and some painter chap? He tried to recall the gossip, but it had been late at night and his recollection was vague.
“In moderation, old girl,” he counselled warily. “Of course there are some things you can’t do. But flutter a bit if you like.”
“What sort of things can’t I do?” asked Claudia, with abrupt directness.
“Oh, don’t peg me down! Well, things I can do, you can’t. A girl’s different from a man—at least, you are.”
“The old shibboleth!” she jeered. “We’re not different, my dear brother. We’re exactly the same, only—only I suppose we’re more fastidious.”
He was a little alarmed. In the old days Claudia had always taken what he called “a high moral tone” in discussing his little peccadilloes. Vaguely he felt that this change in her was not right.
“Is Fay conservative in her opinions on this subject?” went on Claudia, with a touch of cruelty. “Does she think there are things she can do and you can’t?”
He winced and uncrossed his legs. “She’s different from you,” he said decidedly. “You’re sort of—well, superior. I’d hate to think——” He stopped and tweaked Billie’s ear.
“Well, go on. What would you hate?”