e feeling,
however, with a little laugh, and, rising from the table, crossed over
to her, standing behind her, drawing her head back against his heart.
"Not satisfied with our solitude," he teased; "find it dull?"
"No, it's not that," she answered; she had to fight against the
temptation to let things go, to lift up her lips for his kiss. "It's
because--well, you didn't introduce me, they must have thought it
queer."
"Oh, hang it all, dear," he remonstrated, "I could not pass you off as
my wife or sister, they would know it was not true. What do you want to
know them for anyhow? Sclater works at the office with me and the other
man is a pal of his, I have never met him before."
"I see," she agreed; he had not at all understood her, but she doubted
if she could quite explain herself. "It doesn't matter, Gilbert." She
sat a little away from him, sweeping the crumbs together with her
fingers.
Behind her back Gilbert shrugged his shoulders and allowed the frown to
show for a second on his face. Then he turned aside and lit a cigarette.
"Let's do a theatre to-night, Joan," he suggested, "I am just in the
mood for it."
She was not just in the mood for it, but she went; and after the theatre
they had supper at the Monico and Gilbert ordered a bottle of champagne
to cheer them up; with the lights and music all round them and Gilbert's
face opposite her, his lips smiling at her, his eyes caressing her, Joan
forgot her mood of uneasiness. In the taxi going home she crept close up
against him, liking to feel the strong hold of his arms.
"You love me, and I love you, don't I, Gilbert?" she whispered; "that is
all that really counts."
"It counts more than all the world," he answered, and stooped to kiss
her upturned lips.
She made no new friends in her life with him, the old ones naturally
fell rather into the background; it was impossible to keep up girl
friendships when she was never able to ask any of them home with her.
Once she went back to see Mrs. Thomas, but the torrent of questions,
none of which could be answered truthfully, had paralysed her. She had
sat dumb and apparently sulky. Mrs. Thomas had written afterwards to
Aunt Janet:
"I do not think Joan can be really happy in her new post. She
is quite changed, no longer her bright, cheery self."
And that had called forth a long letter from Aunt Janet to Joan. If she
was not happy and did not feel well she was to leave at once. It had
be
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