Josephine, who had been gazing down into the orchestra, turned now, flushing darkly.
“But I don't want a lover, Julia,” she said, hurt.
“Josephine dear! Dear old Josephine! Don't you really! Oh, yes, you do.—I want one so BADLY,” cried Julia, with her shaking laugh. “Robert's awfully good to me. But we've been married six years. And it does make a difference, doesn't it, Tanny dear?”
“A great difference,” said Tanny.
“Yes, it makes a difference, it makes a difference,” mused Julia. “Dear old Rob-ert—I wouldn't hurt him for worlds. I wouldn't. Do you think it would hurt Robert?”
She screwed up her eyes, looking at Tanny.
“Perhaps it would do Robert good to be hurt a little,” said Tanny. “He's so well-nourished.”
“Yes!—Yes!—I see what you mean, Tanny!—Poor old ROB-ert! Oh, poor old Rob-ert, he's so young!”
“He DOES seem young,” said Tanny. “One doesn't forgive it.”
“He is young,” said Julia. “I'm five years older than he. He's only twenty-seven. Poor Old Robert.”