Tay had been swept off into a vortex of suffragists and antis, all arguing with determination. Julia sought out Ishbel and had a talk in a corner with that ever soothing friend.
VI
“Julia,” said Tay, as they emerged into Tilney Street, “what is your idea of something real devilish?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that after that flow of soul, I am in a mood to whoop it up, paint the town magenta, get up on a box in Hyde Park and holler, but not to suffragettes. And I want your company. Can’t you feel that way?”
“Perhaps,” admitted Julia, laughing. “What a boy you still are.”
“Not so much of a boy as you think, but enough. But I don’t know your tastes in crime. Give me a hint, and we’ll do it.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t any.”
“You are as truthful as a woman can be, so investigate your possibilities and own up. Admit that under my demoralizing influence you are suffering some from reaction.”
“I believe I am.” Julia laughed again, with youth in her voice.