"Never. Millie kept you out of sight until you were able to fly. I didn't altogether approve. After all, we must all try our wings some time. You see, I like the present day, Major Crosby. I like it far better than what people call my own day, though why this one isn't just as much mine as it is anybody's, I really don't know."
"You're very greedy," Judy told her. "You had Disraeli and Gladstone and Jenny Lind, and now you want Lloyd George and Charlie Chaplin. All the same, I don't wonder you like our age best. That one was so full of hypocrisy and sentiment."
Madame Claire agreed with this.
"We were always pretending things. Men were always gentlemen or monsters. Young girls were always innocent as flowers. We even tried to believe that wars and poverty were picturesque and romantic."
"And you talked too much about love," said Judy. "That sort of golden, sticky, picture-book love that even we were taught to expect. And a gigantic hoax it is!"
"A hoax?" Chip looked at her to see if she were joking.
"Of course it is. Oh, I believed in it too, once. It's like Santa Claus. I never could see that the
