"Certainly. What other?"
"Would you learn Chinese if Jessica were to happen to speak it?"
"Certainly not. The interest is not the same by any means."
Leith returned to his book, and Olney resumed his position upon the couch. He did not look in the direction of his friend, but steadily at the ceiling, or in a line with it, for there was such a cloud of smoke between that he could not see it. He pulled at the pipe with a steadiness and strength that argued well for the condition of his lungs, then rose at last and laid it almost tenderly upon a table.
He thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers and walked once or twice nervously up and down the room; but Leith only kept on diligently with his study, never glancing away from his book, except toward the ceiling.
Olney could bear the silence no longer, and broke it himself by and by.
"What do you mean by it, Leith?" he asked at last, forcing himself to speak quietly, though he was far from feeling it.
"Mean by what?" asked his preoccupied companion.
"Studying Spanish."
"My dear fellow," drawled Leith, "you really appear to think there is something criminal in the fact of my learning a language. What is there extraordinary about it?"