"You see," she said, "you're still so young. Only a boy really. You don't know the world as I know it. You mustn't reject my advice."
"I'm thirty-six," he parried.
"And I'm over sixty."
"You don't look it, mater."
She felt herself being edged away from her topic. She saw a vision of Aliette Brunton--standing palpably between herself and her son. Vague jealousy clouded her love, her kindness.
"You don't deny the correctness of my statement," she shot at him. "You admit that you are in love?"
"Suppose I admit that much----" His lean face flushed.
"Then the least you can do is to tell me with whom. You say you don't want to be unkind or unfair. Is it fair, or kind, to let me"--Julia hesitated over the word--"suspect things?"
He said bluntly, "There is nothing to suspect."
She said with equal bluntness, "Then why am I not to be told?"