They both laughed and felt more like the Georgie and Judy of old days—­more so than they were to again.  As the days went on Georgie, whom marriage had taken completely away from the old artistic set, found herself feeling that after all she was a married woman and Judy was still only Miss Parminter....  Judy, scenting this, told her flippantly that a miss was as good as a mother, and Georgie laughed, but warned her to remember the children were in the room....  Judy was inclined to be hurt by the needless reminder, and, as she considered it foolish to be hurt and still more foolish to show it, she went out.

She found Ishmael reading in the rock garden that had been made by the stream, which ran along the dip below the house where once had been rough moorland.  Now there were slopes of smooth, vividly green grass and grey boulders, among which they ran up like green pools; great clusters of brilliant rock flowers grew in bright patches over their smooth flanks.  Judy sat down beside Ishmael, who closed his book.

“So you wear those?” she asked, pointing to his glasses, which he had taken off and was slipping into their case.

“Yes, I went to the oculist at Plymouth when I went up to see Nicky off.  He said I had splendid sight, but wanted them for close work.  I didn’t know you had to wear them.”

“I’ve known for years and years that I ought.  I ought to have as a girl.  I went once to an oculist, who told me if I wore them till I was forty I could then throw them away.  I thought it was so like a man.  I preferred to do without till forty and wear them the rest of my life.”

“But haven’t you injured your eyes?”

“Probably.”

“It isn’t all as simple as oculists think,” said Ishmael, with that intuition which is generally called feminine and which had been all his life his only spark of genius.  Judy looked and smiled her old smile, which charmed as much as ever even on her too-red lips.

“No,” she agreed.  “I remember once, after going to that oculist, I tried to wear glasses one night when I was going out with Joe.  That decided me.”

“What happened?”

“I was staying in lodgings at the time, in London.  It was the first year I knew how I felt for him.  You know about that—­that I did?  Yes?  I was sure you did.  Well, he came to take me out to dinner.  The lodgings were rather horrible, though even they couldn’t spoil things for me.  And I was dressing in my room when he came.  The sitting-room joined on to it by folding doors.  I called out to him I was still dressing, but as a matter of fact I was trying to screw myself up to put the beastly things on.  I remember when I went in to him I kept the shady brim of my hat rather down over my face.  The sitting-room was in darkness except for what light came in from the hall gas.  He said, ’Are you ready?  Been beautifying?’ I said, ’No, exactly the reverse.  I’ve got my glasses on.  You know I told you I had to wear them sometimes.’” Judy broke off, then went on, looking away from Ishmael.