Театр

           Hewaseighteennow;itwastimehefineddown.Heseemedatrifleapathetic;hehadnoneofhersparklingvitality;shecouldpicturethevividnesswithwhichshewouldhavenarratedherexperiencesifshehadjustspentsixmonthsinVienna.Why,alreadyshehadmadeastoryaboutherstayatSt.MalowithAuntCarrieandhermotherthatmadepeopleroarwithlaughter.Theyallsaiditwasasgoodasaplay,andherownimpressionwasthatitwasmuchbetterthanmost.ShetoldittoRogernow.Helistenedwithhisslow,quietsmile;butshehadanuneasyfeelingthathedidnotthinkitquitesofunnyasshedid.Shesighedinherheart.Poorlamb,hecouldhavenosenseofhumour.ThenhemadesomeremarkthatledhertospeakofNowadays.Shetoldhimitsstory,andexplainedwhatshewasdoingwithherpart;shetalkedtohimofthecastanddescribedthesets.Attheendofdinneritsuddenlystruckherthatshehadbeentalkingentirelyofherselfandherowninterests.Shedidnotknowhowshehadbeenledtodothis,andthesuspicionflashedacrosshermindthatRogerhadguidedtheconversationinthatdirectionsothatitshouldbedivertedfromhimandhisaffairs.Butsheputitaside.Hereallywasn’tintelligentenoughforthat.Itwaslaterwhentheysatinthedrawing-roomlisteningtotheradioandsmoking,thatJuliafoundthechancetoslipin,apparentlyinthemostcasualfashion,thequestionshehadprepared.

           "Haveyoumadeupyourmindwhatyou’regoingtobeyet?"

           "No.Isthereanyhurry?"

           "YouknowhowignorantIamabouteverything.