The years slipped away from her in fancy and she felt strangely young again.
What fun they had had in rooms very like that and how they had enjoyed the fantastic meals thay had had, things in paper bags and eggs and bacon fried on the gas-ring!
He came in with the tea in a brown pot.
She ate a square sponge-cake with pink icing on it.
That was a thing she had not done for years.
The Ceylon tea, very strong, with milk and sugar in it, took her back to days she thought she had forgotten.
She saw herself as a young, obscure, struggling actress.
It was rather delicious.
It needed a gesture, but she could only think of one: she took off her hat and gave her head a shake.
They talked.
He seemed shy, much shyer than he had seemed over the telephone; well, that was not to be wondered at, now she was there he must be rather overcome, and she set herself to put him at his ease.
He told her that his parents lived at Highgate, his father was a solicitor, and he had lived there too, but he wanted to be his own master and now in the last year of his articles he had broken away and taken this tiny flat.
He was working for his final examination.
They talked of the theatre.
He had seen her in every play she had acted in since he was twelve years old.
He told her that once when he was fourteen he had stood outside the stage door after a matinee and when she came out had asked her to sign her name in his autograph-book.
He was sweet with his blue eyes and pale brown hair.
It was a pity he plastered it down like that.
He had a white skin and rather a high colour; she wondered if he was consumptive.
Although his clothes were cheap he wore them well, she liked that, and he looked incredibly clean.
She asked him why he had chosen Tavistock Square.
It was central, he explained, and he liked the trees.
It was quite nice when you looked out of the window.
She got up to look, that would be a good way to make a move, then she would put on her hat and say good-bye to him.
‘Yes, it is rather charming, isn’t it.
It’s so London; it gives one a sort of jolly feeling.’
She turned to him, standing by her side, as she said this.
He put his arm round her waist and kissed her full on the lips.
No woman was ever more surprised in her life.
She was so taken aback that she never thought of doing anything.
His lips were soft and there was a perfume of youth about him which was really rather delightful.
But what he was doing was preposterous.
He was forcing her lips apart with the tip of his tongue and now he had both arms round her.
She did not feel angry, she did not feel inclined to laugh, she did not know what she felt.
And now she had a notion that he was gently drawing her along, his lips still pressing hers, she felt quite distinctly the glow of his body, it was as though there was a furnace inside him, it was really remarkable; and then she found herself laid on the divan and he was beside her, kissing her mouth and her neck and her cheeks and her eyes.
Julia felt a strange pang in her heart. She took his head in her hands and kissed his lips.
A few minutes later she was standing at the chimney-piece, in front of the looking-glass, making herself tidy.
‘Look at my hair.’
He handed her a comb and she ran it through.
Then she put on her hat.
He was standing just behind her, and over her shoulder she saw his face with those eager blue eyes and a faint smile in them.
‘And I thought you were such a shy young man,’ she said to his reflection.
He chuckled.
‘When am I going to see you again?’
‘Do you want to see me again?’
‘Rather.’
She thought rapidly.
It was too absurd, of course she had no intention of seeing him again, it was stupid of her to have let him behave like that, but it was just as well to temporize.
He might be tiresome if she told him that the incident would have no sequel.
‘I’ll ring up one of these days.’