"Oh-h!" She leaned her head against him with a happy sigh. "You're thinking of Emmie!"
"As to Julia," he said, reflectively, "I didn't know enough about women's friendships to be able to tell—"
He looked down at the face on his shoulder considering.
"Yes," she said, smiling, "let me in—tell me the worst."
"You see, Julia"—he hesitated—"it won't be easy to make you understand without hurting you."
Val stood suddenly erect, the smile gone. But very gently he pressed her head down on his shoulder again, and rested his cheek on her hair.
"You see, Julia is like a game of tennis, or a pleasant picture of the anecdotic kind. She doesn't give one cause to think; she is mildly amusing and agreeably irrelevant."
"What is there in that to hurt me?" said the suspicious voice under his chin.
"There is nothing that ought to hurt you. But such a person may at times be a sort of—a sort of—"