"_You_! Julia!" Jim whispered, his hands still over his face. "Yes, I know," Julia said drearily. "I don't seem like that sort of a girl, I know." Then there was a long silence. "You--poor--little--kid!" Jim said, after a while, getting up and beginning to walk the floor. "Oh, my God! My God! Poor little kid!" "I suppose there are psychological moments when one wakes up to things," Julia went on, in a tone curiously impersonal. "I was in some theatricals with your sister, years ago. Every one snubbed me, and no wonder! There was a man named Carter Hazzard--and I suddenly seemed to wake up at about that time--" "Carter Hazzard!" The horror in Jim's voice rang through the room. Julia frowned. "I only saw him two or three times," she said. "No. But he flirted with me, and flattered me, and then Barbara told me he was married, and then I found out that they all thought I was vulgar and common--and so I was. And I suppose I wanted to be loved and made much of, and he--this man--was good to me!" "Not you--of all women!" Jim said dully, as if to himself. "I know how you feel," Julia said without emotion, "because of course I feel that way, too--now! And I never loved him, never even thought I did! It was only a little while--two weeks or three, I guess--before I told him I couldn't ever love him. I said I thought I might, but it was like--like realizing that I had been throwing away gold pieces for dimes. Do you know what I mean? And the most awful disgust came over me, Jim--a sort of disappointment, that this talked-of and anticipated thing was no more than that! And then I came here, and I knew that keeping still about it was my only chance, and oh, how sick I was, soul and body, for a fresh start! And then your aunt talked to me, and said what a pity it is that young girls think of nothing but love and lovers, and so throw away their best years, and I thought that I was done with love; no more curiosity--no more thrill--and that I would do something with my life after all!" Her voice dropped, and again there was silence in the room. Jim continued to pace the floor. "Why, there's never been a morning at St. Anne's that I haven't looked at those girls," Julia presently resumed, "and said to myself that I might have been there, with my head shaved and a green check dress on! Lots of them must be better than I!" "Don't!" Jim said sharply, and there was a silence until Julia said wonderingly: "Isn't it funny that all last night, and the night before, I thought I was going to _die_, telling you this--and now it just doesn't seem to matter at all?" "That's why you've never married?" Jim said, clearing his throat. "I've never wanted to until now," Julia said. "And I--I am so changed now that somehow I would never think of that--that bad old time, in connection with marriage! It was as if that part of my life was sealed beyond opening again--