to say to them."

Julie threw away her cigarette-stump. "One sees a lot of human nature in
hospitals, my boy," she said, "and it doesn't leave one with many
illusions. But from what I've seen, I should say nobody does much good by
talking."

"You don't understand," said Peter. "Look here, I shouldn't call you
religious in a way at all Don't be angry. I don't _know_, but I don't
think so, and I don't think you can possibly know what I mean."

"I used to do the flowers in church regularly at home," she said. "I
believe in God, though you think I don't."

Peter sighed. "Let's change the subject," he said. "Have you seen any
more of that Australian chap lately?"

"Rather! He's engaged to a girl I know, and I reckon I'm doing her a good
turn by sticking to him. He's a bit of a devil, you know, but I think I
can keep him off the French girls a bit."

Peter looked at her curiously. "You know what he is, and you don't mind
then?" he said.

"Good Lord, no!" she replied. "My dear boy, I know what men are. It isn't
in their nature to stick to one girl only. He loves Edie all right, and
he'll make her a good husband one day, if she isn't too particular and
inquisitive. If I were married, I'd give my husband absolute liberty--and
I'd expect it in return. But I shall never marry. There isn't a man who
can play fair. They'll take their own pleasures, but they are all as
jealous as possible. I've seen it hundreds of times."

"You amaze me," said Peter. "Let's talk straight. Do you mean to say that
if you were married and your husband ran up to Paris for a fortnight, and
you knew exactly what he'd gone for, you wouldn't mind?"

"No," she declared roundly. "I wouldn't. He'd come back all the more fond
of me, I'd know I'd be a fool to expect anything else."

Peter stared at her. She was unlike anything he had ever seen. Her moral
standards, if she had any, he added mentally, were so different from his
own that he was absolutely floored. He thought grimly that alone in a
motor-car he had got among the multitude with a vengeance. "Have you
ever been in love?" he demanded.

She laughed. "Solomon, you're the quaintest creature. Do you think I'd
tell you if I had been? You never ought to ask anyone that. But if you
want to know, I've been in love hundreds of times. It's a queer disease,
but not serious--at least, not if you don't take it too seriously."

"You don't know what love is at all," he said.

She faced him fairly and u