"Rather! We have much the best time on the whole. We can do what we like
pretty well. If we want to be men, we can. We can put on riding-breeches,
even, and run a farm. But if we like, we can wear glad rags and nice
undies, and be more women than ever."

"And in the end thereof?" Peter couldn't help asking.

"Oh," said Julie lightly, "one can settle down and have babies if one
wants to. And sit in a drawing-room and talk scandal as much as one
likes. Not that I shall do either, thank you. I shall--oh, I don't know
what I shall do. Solomon, you are at your worst. Pick me some of those
primroses, and let's be going. You never can tell: we may have to walk
home yet."

Peter plucked a few of the early blooms, and she pushed them into her
waist-belt. Then they went back to the car, and got in again.

"Cold?" he asked, after a little.

"A bit," she said. "Tuck me up, and don't sit in that far corner all the
time. You make me feel chilly to look at you. I hate sentimental people,
but if you tried hard and were nice I could work up quite a lot of
sentiment just now."

He laughed, and tucked her up as required. Then he lit a cigarette and
slipped his arm round her waist. "Is that better?" he said.

"Much. But you can't have had much practice. Now tell me stories."

Peter had a mind to tell her several, but he refrained, and they grew
silent, "Do you think we shall have another day like this?" he demanded,
after a little.

"I don't see why not," she said. "But one never knows, does one? The
chances are we shan't. It's a queer old world."

"Let's try, anyway; I've loved it," he said.

"So have I," said Julie. "It's the best day I've had for a long time,
Peter. You're a nice person to go out with, you know, though I mustn't
flatter you too much. You should develop the gift; it's not everyone that
has it."

"I've no wish to," he said.

"You are an old bear," she laughed; "but you don't mean all you say, or
rather you do, for you will say what you mean. You shouldn't, Peter. It's
not done nowadays, and it gives one away. If you were like me, now, you
could say and do anything and nobody would mind. They'd never know what
you meant, and of course all the time you'd mean nothing."

"So you mean nothing all the time?" he queried.

"Of course," she said merrily. "What do you think?"

That jarred Peter a little, so he said nothing and silence fell on them,
and at the Hotel de Ville in the city he asked if she would mi