put you off. If you're the
'in spite of,' they don't. I think the only difference between men and
women is that as a rule men love because of and women in spite of."

"I'm afraid I should be the 'because of.'"

"Yes, I think perhaps you would. If a woman loves 'in spite of,' all the
little external things that at the beginning might have shocked her only
make her care more."

"Like eating with one's knife, you mean?"

"Yes, even that. Or the person having a cold in his head or a spot on
the end of his nose! She notices whatever it happens to be and has a
little shock of surprise at finding it makes no difference. And that
makes her feel how strong her love must be; and pouf! it gets stronger
than ever."

"And the underneath things, like finding out little insincerities,
little meannesses even?"

"The same plan works there--if you're the 'in spite of' lover."

"Tell me," said Ishmael suddenly, "do you--does any woman--have moments
when the very word 'love' is an insufferable intrusion, when it all
seems petty and of no account, a tiresome thing in whose presence it
suddenly doesn't seem possible to breathe?"

"When one is sick of the whole question, and the way life is supposed to
be built round it? Yes; but when a woman feels like that it generally is
in reaction from too much of it. She doesn't feel it purely
academically, so to speak, as a man can." Judy's voice was suddenly very
weary. Her eyes met Ishmael's, and in that look a comprehension was born
between them that was never quite to fail, that was, in its best
moments, to mean true intimacy. Judy blinked at him with her sad
monkey-eyes, smiled a little, and held out her hand in farewell. He
took it--suddenly ejaculated a "Good-night" accompanied by a "Thank
you" which he felt, though he could not quite have told why. He went off
down the lane without seeing her back to the cottage, and she stayed
awhile, grateful in her turn that meeting him had taken the keen edge
off her own problems. She went in to supper and bed feeling very tired,
a tiredness that was in her mind and soul, but that had the pleasantness
of a healthy physical exhaustion. Georgie showed a disposition to come
into her room and ask her her opinion of "falling in love" over mutual
hair-brushes, but Judith evaded the tentative suggestion. By then she
was feeling that the word was a meaningless string of four letters, and
the thing she supposed it stood for as fantastic and far-off as the