Julia smiled, stood up, and pressed her hands over her hips to settle her skirt smoothly; she had an air of abandoning the talk as useless. Her eyes were tired and her mouth drooped.
"It isn't as though you knew such a great deal about men, dear," Marie added.
"I don't want to," said Julia.
"Surely, you must like Osborn?"
"What does it matter whether I do or don't, since you do?"
"I can't think how anyone can fail to like Osborn."
"Of course you can't."
"Even you must own he's the best-tempered boy living."
"I shan't own anything of the kind till you've been married three months, and he's had some bad dinners, and late breakfasts, and has got a bit sick of the butcher's bill. Then we'll see."
"Little things like these can't matter between people who really love each other. You don't understand."