“I make allowances for weakness, because weakness is the rule and strength the exception. The world gets weaker-willed and more neurotic every day. That’s why one hears so much talk of ‘individuality,’ ‘independence,’ et cetera. More cake, please.”
Claudia shook her head, not at the request for more cake, but at his dicta.
“That’s not right. You are making no allowance for temperament. Sometimes it’s really brave to be unconventional.”
“More often weak and cowardly,” retorted Gilbert, “and the unconventional people usually put other people in a hopeless mess.”
“I don’t believe you were ever tempted to do anything unconventional.” Claudia looked at him, and it crossed her mind that he was very unlike her mother’s friends.
“No, I don’t pretend to have withstood great temptations in that line. ‘Trespassers will be prosecuted’ doesn’t enrage me. I put the same notice-board on my own property, and am content.”
“I see. Will that notice-board cover—your wife?” She was smiling at him, but there was a hint of earnest in the dark eyes.
“Most certainly, madam. The rest of the world may admire you—from a safe distance.” He found her looking very pretty behind the silver, the sun through the green branches just flecking her hair. “I warn you I should not make a complaisant husband if I found someone trespassing.” He laughed as he said it, but there was a decided champ of his jaws, which she noticed and secretly admired.
“And I shouldn’t be marrying you if I thought you would,” she replied, with a sudden touch of fire in her voice. “One sees so much of that and it is so—so horrible. One despises the husband more than the wife.” Then she went on more slowly. “I think most women feel the same about it, although they say they want perfect freedom in such matters. Women are playing a game of bluff nowadays. They don’t want a husband to be complaisant.”