“No, I don’t think it’s that,” said Paton quietly. “Let’s say it’s lack of ambition and driving power.”
Was there something in his tone that sent a vague shadow of distrust over Claudia’s expression, or was it the echo of some secret misgiving in herself?
“Does that mean you think ambition—the ordinary get-to-the-top-of-the-tree ambition—rather commonplace?”
“Not a bit,” he said heartily. “After all, we live on a commonplace earth. Gilbert is right and I am wrong, and when Gilbert is Lord Chief Justice and I’m an obscure old bore of a bachelor, I shall, no doubt, fully realize my wrongness. But do ask me to dinner sometimes.”
“But you mustn’t remain a bachelor,” said Claudia, with all the enthusiasm of the newly-engaged woman, “because your life will be incomplete. That sounds like sex conceit, but you said it yourself to me, and then I began to believe it. And now——” she completed the sentence with a charming blush.
“Can you imagine any modern woman wanting a man without worldly ambition, a man she will never be proud of, a man who is nothing and does nothing?” The tone was light enough, and the girl, engrossed in her own happiness, did not detect an unusual note of bitterness. For Colin Paton was never bitter. He could be sarcastic and even scathing when roused, but he never indulged in the refuge of cowardly souls.
Claudia took him quite seriously, for happiness, just as sorrow, may temporarily obscure a sense of humour. “I forbid you to say such things of yourself,” she said, with an engaging air of motherliness. “You’re awfully clever—awfully clever. Why, you are one of the best-read and best-informed men in London.” Suddenly she realized how often she had turned to him for information or advice. And she could never remember an occasion on which he had failed her, or an opinion that her critical faculty on reflection deemed unsound.
“No market value, dear lady.”
She paused a moment thoughtfully. “Is that true?” she said slowly. “Gilbert said that the other day when I asked him if he had read something. He says he has no time for books, it’s as much as he can do to read the newspapers.... Somehow it seems all wrong.” She looked away with a puzzled expression at the trees of the Park.
He cast a quick glance at her profile and the beautiful lines of her throat. He seemed about to say something with unusual impetuosity, and then he resolutely locked his lips. He allowed her to go on speaking.