This phase of exaggerated second childhood lasted for several weeks, until, under the counteracting influence of bromide draughts, it gradually subsided into a more restrained joy in life. Meanwhile, Sally Rebecca, too, was recovering her youth. Not having been subjected to a preliminary treatment of intensive culture, she naturally made slower progress than the men. Gradually, her features became less harsh in outline, her eyes brightened, new layers of fat were formed, her movements grew more graceful, her voice improved in depth and tone, and even her hair was darkening. Now and then, a quaint girlishness exhibited itself, as if modestly peeping out on a new world. Keeping pace with the wonderful transformation of her body, the Spirit of Youth led her soul back to the past. She began treating Gran'pa and me as companions of her own age. In contrast to the women of this generation, she showed a strange mixture of awakening motherliness and innocence and purity that belonged to the period in which she was born. And yet, behind it all was the wisdom of maturity, its tolerance, its deep understanding, its great gift of forgiveness. Intensely curious, I asked Gran'pa: "Is she as you knew her forty or fifty years ago?" "Very nearly, George!" he answered, meditatively. "It is a spiritual revelation. She has all the qualities she had in those days--only they are a little more subdued. That touch of abandonment is not there, but----" "You can't expect everything the same," I pointed out. "No. . . . Of course not!" He seemed to be somewhat lacking in enthusiasm, I thought, and I could not help saying: "Surely you are not disappointed?" "How can you suggest such a thing, George?" But the impression remained. I was certain that something was amiss. Even Sally herself seemed to be less inclined towards Gran'pa than she had been before the operation. A trifle resentfully, she told me that he was very domineering at times. She also felt that he spent far too much time with the other members of the club, and that she was consequently being neglected. To make matters worse, Gran'pa became the moving spirit in a vicious little clique of gamblers who played poker and auction bridge with a wild desperation--as if determined to seek solace in cards, now that the glands had failed them. The stakes, too, were dangerously high. "We must get him away from these wicked, unrejuvenated old men," I said to Sally one morning. "He's becoming demoralized." The next morning Sally announced that she insisted on returning to England before the week was out. "But, my dear. . . ." protested Gran'pa. "You can't rush things like this." Sally showed her spirit. "Charles," she said, "If you and your numerous friends don't wish to come--you needn't. I can go alone." "Don't talk nonsense, Sally! We can't have the party broken up in this absurd manner. It's idiotic for a mere woman to try and upset . . ." "Steady, Gran'pa!" I whispered.