“Indeed? With Cynthia? That must have been jolly.”
The harmless observation appeared to have the worst effect upon his companion. The frown came back to her face.
“Oh, don’t speak in that flippant, sneering way,” she said. “It’s so cheap.”
Psmith, having nothing to say, remained silent, and the boat drifted on. Eve’s face was delicately pink, for she was feeling extraordinarily embarrassed. There was something in the solemn gaze of the man before her which made it difficult for her to go on. But, with the stout-heartedness which was one of her characteristics, she stuck to her task.
“After all,” she said, “however you may feel about her now, you must have been fond of poor Cynthia at one time, or I don’t see why you should have married her.”
Psmith, for want of conversation, had begun
