l youth,
wears out the body. The body grows old, but not the soul. Nothing can
age that; and when at last the body quite wears out, the young soul
breaks free, and begins again. Youthful souls wear out their bodies
quicker than old ones; just as a strong young boy romps through a suit
of clothes sooner than a weakly old man. But there is always life more
abundant, and a fuller life farther on. So the mating of souls is the
all-important thing; and when young souls meet and mate, what does it
matter if there be a few years' difference in the ages of their bodies?
Their essential youthfulness will surmount all that."

Christobel looked at him, and truly for a moment the young soul in her
leapt out to his, in glad response. Then the other side of the
question rose before her.

"Ah, but, Boy dear," she said, "the souls express themselves--their
needs, their delights, their activities--through the bodies. And
suppose one body, in the soul-union, is wearing out sooner than the
other; that is hard on the other--hard on both. Boy--my Little Boy
Blue--shall I tell you an awful secret? I suppose I sat too closely
over my books at Girton; I suppose I was not sufficiently careful about
good print, or good light. Anyway--Boy dear--I have to use glasses
when I read." She looked wistfully into his bright eyes. "You see?
Already I am beginning to grow old." Her sweet lips trembled.

In a moment he was kneeling by the arm of her chair, bending over her,
as he did on the first day; but as he did not do yesterday. Suddenly
she realized why she had felt so flat yesterday, after he was gone.

He lifted her hand and kissed it gently, back and palm. Then he parted
the third finger from the rest, with his own brown ones, and held that
against his warm young lips.

She drew her hand slowly away; passed it over his hair; then let it
fall upon her lap. She could not speak; she could not move; she could
not send him away. She wanted him so--her little Boy Blue, of long ago.

"Old, my Beloved?" he said. "You--old! Never! Always
perfect--perfect to me. And why not wear glasses? Heaps of mere kids
wear glasses, and wear them all the time. Only--how alarmingly clever
you must look in spectacles, Christobel. It would terrify me now; but
by and by it will make me feel proud. I think one would expect glasses
to go with those awe-inspiring classical honours. With my barely
respectable B.A., I daren't lay claim to any outwar