Peter smiled.  “What do you?” he said.

“Well,” said Langton, “it leaves me unmoved, except when I’m annoyed by the way their wretched images spoil the church, but it is plain that they like it.  I should say one of your two realities is there.  But I find it hard to forgive the bad art.”

“Do you?” said Peter, “I don’t.  It reminds me of those appalling enlargements of family groups that you see, for example, in any Yorkshire cottage.  They are unutterably hideous, but they stand for a real thing that is honest and beautiful—­the love of home and family.  And by the same token, when the photographs got exchanged, as they do in Mayfair, for modern French pictures of nude women, or some incredible Futurist extravagance, that love has usually flown out of the window.”

“Humph!” said Langton—­“not always.  Besides, why can’t a family group be made artistically, and so keep both art and love?  I should think we ought to aim at that.”

“I suppose we ought,” said Peter, “but in our age the two don’t seem to go together.  Goodness alone knows why.  Why, hullo!” he broke off.

“What’s up now?” demanded Langton.

“Why, there, across the street, if that isn’t a nurse I know from Havre, I don’t know who it is.  Wait a tick.”

He crossed the road, and saw, as he got near, that it was indeed Julie.  He came up behind her as she examined a shop-window.  “By all that’s wonderful, what are you doing here?” he asked.

She turned quickly, her eyes dancing.  “I wondered if I should meet you,” she said.  “You see, your letter told me you were coming here, but I haven’t heard from you since you came, and I didn’t know if you had started your tour or not. I came simply enough.  There’s a big South African hospital here, and we had to send up a batch of men by motor.  As they knew I was from South Africa, they gave me the chance to come with them.”

“Well, I am glad,” said Peter, devouring the sight of her.  “Wait a minute; I must introduce you to Langton.  He and I are together, and he’s a jolly good chap.”

He turned and beckoned Langton, who came over and was introduced.  They walked up the street a little way together.  “Where are you going now?” asked Peter.

“Back to the hospital,” said Julie.  “A car starts from the square at twelve-forty-five, and I have to be in for lunch.”

“Have you much to do up there?” asked Peter.

“Oh no,” she said, “my job’s done.  I clear off the day after to-morrow.  We only got in last night, so I get a couple of days’ holiday.  What are you doing?  You don’t look any too busy.”

Peter glanced across at Langton and laughed.  “We aren’t,” he said.  “The whole stunt’s a wash-out, if you ask me, and we’re really expecting to be sent back any day.  There’s too much doing now for lectures.  Is the hospital full?”

“Packed,” said Julie gravely.  “The papers say we’re falling back steadily so as not to lose men, but the facts don’t bear it out.  We’re crammed out.  It’s ghastly; I’ve never known it so bad.”