Julian smiled.
"Not a lover," he said, with a fleeting air of gallantry. She shrank visibly from the word, and hurriedly went on:
"Not I. I've had too much of love." The last word was spoken with a violence of contempt. "I want a man as likes me, just really likes me, as he might another man. See?"
"And you'll not love him?"
His eyes searched hers with a gaiety of inquiry that was almost laughter.
Cuckoo looked away.
"I'll not love him either," she said steadily. "I'll just like him too."
Seeing her earnestness and obvious emotion, Julian dropped his gently quizzing manner, and became earnest, too, in his degree.
"Then it's a bargain," he said. "You and I are to like each other thoroughly, never anything more, never anything less. Like two men, eh?"
She began at last to look relieved and happier.
"Yes, like that," she said. "Ain't it—ain't it truer than the other thing? There's something beastly about love; that's what I always think."