Julia, with her chin resting on her arms, in a position which irritated the neighbouring Lady Cochrane sincerely, was gazing with unseeing eyes down upon the stalls.
"Well then—" began Struthers. But the music struck up softly. They were all rather bored. Struthers kept on making small, half audible remarks—which was bad form, and displeased Josephine, the hostess of the evening.
When the curtain came down for the end of the act, the men got up. Lilly's wife, Tanny, suddenly appeared. She had come on after a dinner engagement.
"Would you like tea or anything?" Lilly asked.
The women refused. The men filtered out on to the crimson and white, curving corridor. Julia, Josephine and Tanny remained in the box. Tanny was soon hitched on to the conversation in hand.
"Of course," she replied, "one can't decide such a thing like drinking a cup of tea."
"Of course, one can't, dear Tanny," said Julia.
"After all, one doesn't leave one's husband every day, to go and live with another man. Even if one looks on it as an experiment—."
"It's difficult!" cried Julia. "It's difficult! I feel they all want to force me to decide. It's cruel."
"Oh, men with their beastly logic, their either-this-or-that stunt, they are an awful bore.—But of course, Robert can't love you really, or he'd want to keep you. I can see Lilly discussing such a thing for me. But then you don't love Robert either," said Tanny.
"I do! Oh, I do, Tanny! I do love him, I love him dearly. I think he's beautiful. Robert's beautiful. And he needs me. And I need him too. I need his support. Yes, I do love him."
"But you like Scott better," said Tanny.
"Only because he—he's different," sang Julia, in long tones. "You see Scott has his art. His art matters. And Rob-ert—Robert is a dilettante, don't you think—he's dilettante—" She screwed up her eyes at Tanny. Tanny cogitated.
"Of course I don't think that matters," she replied.
