The spectacles of course were dreadful. No one could look really well in gold-rimmed spectacles. Gilbert tried some with tortoise-shell rims. He shook his head.
"They’d look all right on a girl," he said. "You’re too old to wear spectacles, Jane." Suddenly he had an inspiration. "By George, I’ve got it. You must wear an eyeglass."
"Oh, Gilbert, I couldn’t."
She looked at him, and his excitement, the excitement of the artist, made her smile. He was so sweet to her she wanted to do what she could to please him.
"I’ll try," she said.
When they went to an optician and, suited with the right size, she placed an eyeglass jauntily in her eye Gilbert clapped his hands. There and then, before the astonished shopman, he kissed her on both cheeks.
"You look wonderful," he cried.
So they went down to Italy (так они спустились =
"Do you like it (вам нравится)?" she answered demurely (отвечала =
"I should like to copy it if you don’t mind (мне бы хотелось взять его за образец: «скопировать его», если вы не возражаете;
baroque [bq'rquk], architecture ['RkItekCq], stare [steq]
So they went down to Italy and spent happy months studying Renaissance and Baroque architecture. Jane not only grew accustomed to her changed appearance but found she liked it. At first she was a little shy when she went into the dining-room of a hotel and people turned round to stare at her — no one had ever raised an eyelid to look at her before — but presently she found that the sensation was not disagreeable. Ladies came up to her and asked her where she got her dress.
"Do you like it?" she answered demurely. "My husband designed it for me."
"I should like to copy it if you don’t mind."