For some time they waltzed in silence. Then Gilbert said involuntarily, “I’m glad I came.”
“I’m glad, too,” said Claudia softly. A little strand of soft dark hair that had become unloosened swept his cheek now and again, her body gave to every movement, lithe, supple and warm. He forgot his career and the brief he had meant to study. His youth asserted itself—he had never really enjoyed it—and insolently told his maturer intellect to hold off and take a back place.
But Claudia, like most women, could think of many things while she was thoroughly enjoying the dance, for women can do several things at the same time. She was thinking of his triumph the day before. Many people had been talking about him the last few days, and prophesying big things for him. He was the young man of the hour, and he had left his work to come and dance with her. The thought was intoxicating.
Claudia was desperately tired of the men who did nothing. Her father did nothing—he sat on one or two boards, and grumbled at having to attend their monthly meetings—her brother did very little. Although he was in the army, his duties sat lightly upon him, and those duties seemed to involve little or no brain power. Jack confessed that the only time he thought was the few minutes when he was sitting in his bath in the morning. The man with whom she should have danced the waltz did nothing. He was vaguely going in for politics one day, in the meantime he gracefully and idly existed. Most of the men Claudia knew, except one or two elderlies who were M.P.’s or the heads of large companies, did nothing in particular. And Claudia had a great admiration for the people who did things. As a girl, she had read all the biographies of famous men that she could lay her hands upon, and she had even once had a desire to do something big herself. Though she had long ago given up the idea, she still admired the vigorous men who did and thought strongly.
The dance came to an end and Gilbert led her out of the room.
“I was in court yesterday,” said Claudia, tucking the little strand of hair tidily away under the fillet of pink coral and pearls which she wore. She was dressed in a pastel shade of something diaphanous and soft, that harmonized exactly with the creamy tones of her skin. The only colour about her was supplied by the corals which she also wore wound in strands round her neck and drooping over the front of her corsage.
“No, were you?” said Gilbert, thrilling at this evidence of her interest.
“I made Uncle John take me.... I had to bribe him by promising to go and play backgammon with him two afternoons this week. But it was worth it. I—well, I should have howled if you hadn’t won the case, I was so excited. Uncle John went to sleep and snored, and he says I’ve pinched him black in my indignation. Isn’t it dreadful to be old and not be interested in anything for more than half an hour? He said it was the air of the courts.”
“I did make a long speech though. Did you realize I was speaking for two hours? You were not there all that time?”
“Yes, I was. Uncle John went to get something to eat, but I never budged.”