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a real test, but—
    ‘ That man, ’ Roger was saying with quiet emphasis, eyeing Max across the room, ‘ is as selfish as hell and as conniving as a fox, if I ’ m any judge. ’
    Julia was conscious of a sense of dismay. It was rather frightening to meet a man who judged the character of people so ruthlessly.
    ‘ I don ’ t see how you can possibly tell, ’ she protested. ‘And personally, I ’ d hate to be judged in such a way. ’
    His eyes widened. ‘ But you wouldn ’ t be judged that way. The worst one could say about you would be that you have a mind and a will of your own—and that can ’ t be called a fault. ’
    ‘ It could be, ’ she argued.
    He shook his head. ‘ You tend to fly off the handle, partly because you ’ re so honest. But you also have a—strong sentimental streak in you. ’
    She felt her cheeks wa rm ing. ‘ You sound like a character-reading act at a— ’ She broke off, suddenly realising how rude she was being. ‘I ’ m sorry. ’
    His jaw tightened for a second, then his lips curved into a slight smile. ‘That ’ s all right. I didn ’ t intend to get so personal, but at least you ’ ve confirmed what I said. You tend to fly off the handle. ’
    ‘I ’ ve already said I ’ m sorry, ’ she flashed out. Then she saw the humorous side and laughed. ‘You ’ re perfectly right, of course. ’
    ‘There you are. Honest, too. I told you I was an expert. ’
    Mischief stirred once more as she looked at him across the table. ‘Of course I only fly off the handle when someone provokes me. ’
    ‘And I provoked you. You must learn not to let your feelings show so much. ’
    ‘Why? I was brought up to express my feelings freely. How else can the human race get to know each other? There ’ s far too much surface politeness, people pretending they don ’ t care about things. Why should we be afraid to show our emotions? ’
    She could see from his expression that he did not agree with her and at heart, she did not fully mean what she had said. There were times when control was necessary. He said more or less what she expected him to say.
    ‘Emotions can get out of hand if they ’ re not controlled. Mass hysteria, for example. It isn ’ t wise to bottle up sorrow too much, of course. I think everyone more or less agrees on that. ’ He gave her an odd look which at that moment there wasn ’ t time to interpret. He went on: ‘ But in conceding the need for free expression, there is another factor to be considered. The effect on other people. ’
    Conscience smote her and she was aware of a hurt feeling mixed with resentment that he had knowingly or unknowingly administered a dose of medicine.
    ‘You mean—I say what I think without considering the feelings of others? ’ she queried bluntly.
    His eyes opened wide. ‘ I didn ’ t mean that at all. You ’ re sensitive as well as being sentimental. And before you protest about that, I mean it as a compliment. I should say you ’ re only too well aware of the feelings of others. I was referring to those people who take freedom of expression to extremes and to blazes with the effect on either individuals or the world in general. Rioters, demonstrators, warmongers and murderers, for instance. I ’ m quite sure that in allowing you a certain amount of freedom of expression your parents didn ’ t let you have all your way. A certain amount of self-control is essential. If you ’ re not taught it as a child, life can well be hell when you grow up. ’
    He tackled his food for a few minutes as if he felt he had said too much, or as if he had been speaking personally and wished he hadn ’ t. But taking a glance at his face, she would have thought he was a man who had learned to control his feelings very well indeed. Perhaps a little too well.
    He looked up suddenly and smiled. ‘We ’ re getting too serious, aren ’ t we? I was supposed to be telling you what kind of man was your type .’
    ‘So you were. Do tell me.