Oakley made no response to this. He didn't propose to criticise Ryder, but, all the same, he doubted his ability.
“Griff's frightfully lazy,” remarked the doctor. “He prefers to settle down to an effortless sort of an existence rather than make a struggle.”
“Don't you think Mr. Ryder extremely clever, Mr. Oakley?”
“I know him so slightly, Miss Emory; but no doubt he is.”
Mrs. Emory appeared in the doorway, placid and smiling.
“Constance, you and Mr. Oakley come on in; dinner's ready.”
When Dan went home that night he told himself savagely that he would never go to the Emorys' again. The experience had been most unsatisfactory. In spite of Constance's evident disposition towards tolerance where he was concerned, she exasperated him. Her unconscious condescension was a bitter memory of which he could not rid himself. Certainly women must be petty, small-souled creatures if she was at all representative of her sex. Yet, in spite of his determination to avoid Constance, even at the risk of seeming rude, he found it required greater strength of will than he possessed to keep away from the Emorys.
He realized, in the course of the next few weeks, that a new stage in his development had been reached. Inspired by what he felt was a false but beautiful confidence in himself, he called often, and, as time wore on, the frequency of these calls steadily increased. All this while he thought about Miss Emory a great deal, and was sorry for her or admired her, according to his mood.
In Constance's attitude towards him there was a certain fickleness that he resented. Sometimes she was friendly and companionable, and then again she seemed to revive all her lingering prejudices and was utterly indifferent to him, and her indifference was the most complete thing of its kind he had ever encountered.
Naturally Dan and Ryder met very frequently, and when they met they clashed. It was not especially pleasant, of course, but Ryder was persistent and Oakley was dogged. Once he started in pursuit of an object, he never gave up or owned that he was beaten. In some form he had accomplished everything he set out to do; and if the results had not always been just what he had anticipated, he had at least had the satisfaction of bringing circumstances under his control. He endured the editor's sarcasms, and occasionally retaliated with a vengeance so heavy as to leave Griff quivering with the smart of it.