Julian was lying on a long couch, with his hands behind the back of his head and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Lady Verny knew that, when he was alone, he was in the habit of lying like this for hours. He had told her that since his accident it amused him more than anything else. She came in without speaking, and, drawing off her long gauntlets, folded them neatly together, and sat down, facing him. Julian's eyes moved toward her as she entered; but he gave her no further greeting, and after a speculative glance his eyes returned to the ceiling. "It's a pity," said Lady Verny, thoughtfully, "that poor child has to go back to the town hall next week, a dreadful, drafty place, and be made love to by a common little town clerk." Julian's eyes flickered for a moment, but did not change their position. "Town clerks," he observed, "are, I feel sure, distinguished persons who confine their passions to rates and taxes." "That must make it all the more trying," said Lady Verny. "But I don't mind the town clerk as much as I mind the drafts. Stella had pleurisy before she came here; and you know what girls who do that kind of work eat--ghastly little messes, slopped on to marble tables, and tasting like last week's wash." "Well, why the devil doesn't she look for another job?" Julian asked irritably. "She has brains enough for twenty. That's what I dislike about women: they get stuck anywhere. No dash in 'em, no initiative, no judgment." It was not what he disliked about women. "She has tried," said Lady Verny. "The man she hoped to get a job from wouldn't have her. She tried this morning." Julian's eyes moved now; they shot like a hawk's on to his mother's, while his body lay as still as a stone figure on a tomb. "Then it was a trap," he said coldly. "I wondered. I thought we'd settled you were going to leave me alone." "Yes," said Lady Verny in a gentle, even voice, "I know we had, Julian; but I can't bear it." Julian's eyes changed and softened. He put his hand on her knee and let it rest there for a moment. "I can, if it's only you," he said; "but I can't stand a lot of sympathetic women. One's a lot." "You don't like her, then?" his mother asked. "I'm sorry; I always did from the first day I saw her. I don't know why; she hasn't any behavior." "I don't dislike her," said Julian. "I don't think her behavior matters. She isn't at all a bother. I rather like her being so awfully little a woman; it's restful. Half the time I don't notice if she's in the room or not." "And the other half of the time?" Lady Verny asked, with apparent carelessness. "Oh, the other half of the time," said Julian, with a little, twisted smile, "I quite appreciate the fact that she is. Especially when you've taken the trouble to dress her as you did last night." "I had to see what she looked like," Lady Verny explained defensively.