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 This was an enormous moment for George Judson. He never did forget its sensation.

For weeks thereafter he was liable to break off his task at any moment and go rushing out home to see little George and insist on having him hold his father's finger. "Great, isn't it? Great!" he would grin at his wife, at the nurse, the doctor, the pictures on the wall, at anybody who happened to be round, and especially at George Junior.

And yet for all his happiness through the child, motherhood had not quite resolved itself in Fay as he had expected. Within three weeks of Junior's birth Fay had disillusioned her husband by a sort of return to girlhood at a time when he had expected her to take on more matronly ways.

"You old dear!" she laughed at George's first hint of mild dismay. "Mothering comes first, of course, but it isn't all of life. I'm going to go and go and go, George, after four or five months in prison. It seems as if I could never catch up with bridge, and teas, and dinners, and the whole social whirl. Just as soon as the doctor will let me, I am going back to riding and golf."

George, though disappointed, found himself too generous, too fondly indulgent, to protest at anything which gave pleasure to his pretty wife, who to him was charming even in her wilful-