“Don’t touch it, I despise it,” she burst out. “I hate these shoes.” She put her foot up. “And this dress and every stitch of clothes on my back. Do you know why? Because every one of them means a different man. Do you want me to tell you about it; what a tough time I’ve had? But you wouldn’t understand it. You’re only a kid, like I was a couple of years ago.”

“Tell me, anyway, Julia.”