“Only because he—he's different,” sang Julia, in long tones. “You see Scott has his art. His art matters. And ROB-ert—Robert is a dilettante, don't you think—he's dilettante—” She screwed up her eyes at Tanny. Tanny cogitated.
“Of course I don't think that matters,” she replied.
“But it does, it matters tremendously, dear Tanny, tremendously.”
“Of course,” Tanny sheered off. “I can see Scott has great attractions—a great warmth somewhere—”
“Exactly!” cried Julia. “He UNDERSTANDS!”
“And I believe he's a real artist. You might even work together. You might write his librettos.”
“Yes!—Yes!—” Julia spoke with a long, pondering hiss.
“It might be AWFULLY nice,” said Tanny rapturously.
“Yes!—It might!—It might—!” pondered Julia. Suddenly she gave herself a shake. Then she laughed hurriedly, as if breaking from her line of thought.
“And wouldn't Robert be an AWFULLY nice lover for Josephine! Oh, wouldn't that be splendid!” she cried, with her high laugh.