Why can't we be what
we might be?"
Valentine did not reply. He seemed lost in thought, and Julian continued,
throwing off his original shamefacedness:
"Ever since then you've kept me straight. If I feel inclined to throw
myself down in the gutter, one look at you makes me loathe the notion.
Preaching often drives one wrong out of sheer 'cussedness,' I suppose.
But you don't preach and don't care. You just live beautifully, because
you're made differently from all of us. So you do for me what no
preachers could ever do. There--now you know."
He lay back, puffing violently at his cigarette.
"It is strange," Valentine said, seeing he had finished. "You know, to
live as I do is no effort to me, and so it is absurd to praise me."
"I won't praise you, but it's outrageous of you to want to feel as I and
other men feel."
"Is it? I don't think so. I think it is very natural. My life is a dead
calm, and a dead calm is monotonous."
"It's better than an everlasting storm."
"I wonder!" Valentine said. "How curious that I should protect you.
I am glad it is so. And yet, Julian, in spite of what you say, I would
give a great deal to change souls with you, if only for a day or two.
You will laugh at me, but I do long to feel a real, keen temptation.
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