I wonder if you'd tell me, Julia. Have I been the laughing stock of our friends all these...

Richard Sturges: I wonder if you'd tell me, Julia. Have I been the laughing stock of our friends all these years? Does everybody know? Julia Sturges: No one except you and me. Richard Sturges: Aren't you forgetting at least one other person? Julia Sturges: Not even he. I never saw him again. Richard Sturges: What very good manners. Julia Sturges: There's no way for me to make it seem right. It happened after one of those endless rows and private humiliations, in the days before you made me over into your image. One of the summers we had the beach house. I'd left a party because I knew I'd cry if there was one more reference made to my gaucherie, to the... to the dress I had chosen to wear. On the beach by our cottage a young man was skipping stones across the water. He assured me he was not a burglar, and we began to talk. He said something admiring to me when I needed it most, a pure, sweet, unsolicited compliment. I... I took his face in my hands, and kissed him out of gratitude. You... you needn't trouble yourself as to who he was, except that he was a much nicer person than you or I.