freer from ties—if that is a desirable thing—than the modern unmarried woman."
"Of course," Judy seconded her. "Noel's point of view is ridiculously young. Personally I could be quite content if I had some money of my own, freedom, and a few friends."
"Bosh," spoke man through the mouth of Noel. "If you mean to include men friends, let me tell you that men are afraid of unmarried women over thirty-five or so. They can't make them out. Neither fish, flesh, nor fowl."
Judy did not pretend to dislike men.
"That's rather a dreadful thought," said she.
Tea arrived at this point, and Noel proceeded to make absurd conversation with Dawson, who had known the brother and sister from babyhood. Absurd, at least, on his part, but perfectly serious on hers. She always asked him how his arm was, meaning, presumably, the place where they took it off.
"Splendid, thanks, Dawes," he replied. "They're going to give me a new one soon, I'm glad to say. They make wonderful artificial limbs now, that can do most anything."
"So they tell me, Mr. Noel," said Dawson, arranging the tea things.
"For instance," he went on, "the one I'm going
