"You are vague," said Julia with a little flush.
"Not about the great thing."
"The great thing?"
"That I owe you everything an honest man has to offer. How can I care about the fine arts now?"
She stopped with lighted eyes on him. "Is it because you think you owe it—" and she paused, still with the heightened colour in her cheek, then went on—"that you've spoken to me as you did there?" She tossed her head toward the lake.
"I think I spoke to you because I couldn't help it."
"You are vague!" And she walked on again.
"You affect me differently from any other woman."
"Oh other women——! Why shouldn't you care about the fine arts now?" she added.
"There'll be no time. All my days and my years will be none too much for what you expect of me."