She stopped. Green was looking at her attentively. He spoke at once with decision. "I know the book. I've read it. It's an exaggeration—probably intentional. It wasn't written—obviously—for the super-sensitive."
"Wasn't it?" Juliet's lips were quivering. "Well, it's been a positive nightmare to me. I haven't got over it yet."
"That's curious," he said. "I shouldn't have thought it could have touched you anywhere."
"That is because you have a totally wrong impression of me," she said. "That is what I am trying to put right. I am the sort of person that horrible book applies to, and I've fallen out with myself very badly in consequence, Mr. Green. I haven't told anyone but you, but—somehow—I feel as if you ought to know."
"Thank you," said Green. "But why?"
She met his eyes very steadily. "Because I'm trying to play the game now, and—I don't want you to have any illusions."
"You don't want me to make a fool of myself," he said. "Is that it?"
She coloured very vividly, but she did not avoid his look. "I don't think there is much danger of that, is there?" she said.
He stood still suddenly and faced her. His eyes burned with an amazing brightness. "I don't know," he said, speaking emphatically and very rapidly. "It depends of course upon the point of view. But I'll tell you this. I'd give all I've got—and all I'm ever likely to get—to prevent you going to Shale Court as a companion."
"Oh, but aren't you unreasonable?" Juliet said.