“Pat.”
Lady Currey did not like letters to be read at breakfast—she insisted that Claudia should have the meal downstairs—so she had had to keep it until she could stroll forth in the garden. Well, Pat’s secret wasn’t such a great secret, after all. Claudia smiled as she wondered why it is that couples in love never imagine that anyone else notices! She wished Pat every happiness, every happiness——
She broke off a fragrant red rose and buried her face in it. It filled her nostrils with the sweetness and fragrance of life. It meant beauty, youth, happiness! Those things were for Pat, not for her. Then the rose recalled her last meeting with Frank and the little dinner-table. He was not finding youth and beauty with Maria Jacobs, he was finding what apparently he had always wanted—money. Well, he had made no wound in her heart, it had been mere physical attraction.
Then she heard Lady Currey speaking. “I think it is very dangerous to inhale the perfume of flowers so near one’s nose. I read in a book once that it may affect one’s brain. Besides, there are often earwigs and things.”
Claudia held out the rich, red bud. “Isn’t it beautiful? Would you like me to fill that empty rose-bowl for you?”
“John does not like the smell of flowers in the house. I always have to see that there are scentless ones on the table, and really”—plaintively—“it is quite difficult.”
Claudia looked at her. She was extraordinarily well preserved, even in the bright morning light. There were no lines to tell her age or mark character. But it was not a face that invited confidence, that would attract a child or make a precious miniature in any man’s heart.
“And, of course, you always consider his wishes in every way, even small ones?”
Lady Currey looked at the red rose laid lovingly—fearless of earwigs—against the soft, creamy cheek. The months spent in the country had, from a physical point of view, been greatly to Claudia’s advantage. Forced to go to bed early and roam the country lanes and fields, she looked the picture of health and strength. The face was now a little sad in repose, too thoughtful for her age, the lips had a faint droop, she did not laugh so readily and so gaily as before she was married; but no one could look at her and not admire her glowing beauty, her lissome, finely-moulded body instinct with vitality and magnetism. As she stood on the lawn in her simple white linen frock with a big black velvet bow at her throat, she made Lady Currey look like an expressionless china doll.
“Women were meant to study their husband’s wishes. I know, of course, that modern women like yourself no longer practise that creed—a creed, I may add, laid down in the Bible. I am told that women make a great point of being independent. But have they gained man’s respect by it? I ask you that. How do men speak of women nowadays? But lightly, I fear.”