“I call that a playful smack in the eye for my patronizing tone,” said Littleton. “I believe Nature hates us most when we patronize her. She did us all in then. Say, Mrs. Currey, will your husband be able to do much golfing?”
She looked inquiringly at Colin, for Neeburg had given him the final instructions.
“In moderation, Mr. Littleton. He mustn’t get over-tired—Neeburg was very insistent on that—but a certain amount of golf and exercise will keep him from brooding, and make him healthily tired.”
Littleton nodded. “I once had a bad attack of nerves. My! but I shall never forget it. I got so that I stuttered in my speech, and I used to fancy people were watching me. I couldn’t sleep and had all sorts of weird fancies. I could hear the telephone-bell ringing all night, and when I did get to sleep, I used to jump up with a shout to answer it. They sent me for a long sea-voyage to Australia. I came back cured. But it was an awful time. One ought to be sympathetic with a man in that condition. Only one who has been through really understands.”
After a few minutes Claudia left the two men and walked over to where Gilbert was seated in a chair, reading the Times. He did not suffer from mal de mer, but he always experienced a curious feeling in his head, as though someone had put a band round his forehead.
“Gilbert, why don’t you enjoy the air and the sea?” she said gently. “Why do you worry your brain with the paper?” She noticed he was reading the law news.
He did not look up at her, but finished reading a case before he replied. “I knew the view Morely would take of the affair. I told Roche so at the beginning. He’s the most bigoted old fool on the bench. What did you say? Well, the sea bores me. It’s just—sea!”
“Talk to me. The trip is very short.”
With evident reluctance he put down the paper.