“Did men ever respect women very much?” said Claudia gently, tucking the rose into her white leather belt. “If men really respected women, would it be necessary either loudly to demand independence or for them to study men’s wishes? Women have been in subjection for ages—not satisfactory; it is now freedom and independence—not satisfactory. Perhaps the third phase will be happier for both.... Colin Paton is coming down for the day on Sunday. I suppose Gilbert would like to see him?”
Claudia could not help noticing that Lady Currey looked at her rather sharply. “Did you ask him down?”
“No. As a matter of fact my sister is staying in the village for the week-end, and he is coming down—for her.”
Lady Currey’s mouth dropped open a little and she stopped snipping at the roses.
“Oh! is he? Then he doesn’t——? That will make a difference. Gilbert will be certain to want to see him.”
Claudia’s curiosity was aroused. Lady Currey did not often cut her sentences.
“‘That will make a difference’ ... why do you say that? What will make a difference?”
“You mean me to deduce that he is—er—interested in your sister? Yes, quite so. Of course, when people are ill they have curious ideas. I never believed it possible myself. His mother is a good woman, I believe, though she is not High Church, and I have always thought highly of Colin Paton. Of course, as John says, it is a thousand pities that he has got drawn into the net of these mad Socialists, and if I were his mother——”
“What fancy has Gilbert got into his head?” interrupted Claudia, looking over to the other side of the lawn, where her husband was reading the newspaper. He was now much better, and could walk half a mile or so.
“Oh, nothing much, only—he fancied—that you saw too much of Colin Paton. He—he imagined Mr. Paton was in love with you, but I was sure he had too much respect for himself to fall in love with a married woman.”