He was pulling himself together by an effort, but his mouth twitched.
“Was it very important?”
“Yes. I told him to send my dress-suit to my chambers. I was going down to a political dinner at Wynnstay”—Wynnstay was his father’s home—“I thought the bag was there, and when I went to catch the train—Imbecile! Most important. I haven’t told you. I expect to stand for Parliament shortly. Father finds the responsibility too much, and, of course, the seat is safe.”
“But, Gilbert,” expostulated Claudia, contrary to her latter custom of listening, if not in agreement, in non-disagreement, “you have too much to do already. Don’t you think——”
“Oh, don’t rub it in, for heaven’s sake.... Besides, I’ve promised Neeburg to take a holiday.... I’m certain I told Marsh about packing my clothes.”
“He is usually very reliable.”
“Oh, well! have it as you like. But any man with as many things to remember as I have, would be liable to forget—trifles. Doctors are so ridiculously bigoted.” His face was slowly becoming an unhealthy white, the redness was fading away. He looked at her obviously asking her to agree with him. Neeburg had scared him a little ... but Neeburg didn’t understand the strain of a barrister’s work. Claudia was only a woman and, of course, she wouldn’t understand either.... No good trying to explain. A long sea voyage ... six months’ rest ... ridiculous! A fortnight at Le Touquet would set him up ... a man knew his own constitution best. But perhaps it was just as well he had been prevented from going to Wynnstay that evening.... He was a little tired. He would have an early dinner and go to bed by ten.
He became aware that she was regarding him in a critical, impersonal way, which, though he was relieved she had ceased to expect wildly enthusiastic responses to her exalté moods, somehow annoyed him. No woman, especially a wife, had any right to look so at a man.
“Why are you staring at me?” he asked, with a frown.
“I was wondering why Nature took the trouble to bring us together. I have been in the country all day, and there she seemed so gentle, so beneficent, so sympathetic. You felt like throwing yourself down among the daisies on the grass and saying, ‘Take me, everything you do must be good and wise.’ And in reality Nature is so cruel, so horribly cruel. Passion is Nature’s greatest force after self-preservation, and I wonder how many thousands of lives it ruins. I never realized until recently that ‘Love is cruel as the grave’ meant that.”