ront of the house, her interest in the play was gone. It
was absurd that it should be so; but the fact remained.

Mr. Airlie had lunched the day before with a leonine old gentleman who
every Sunday morning thundered forth Social Democracy to enthusiastic
multitudes on Tower Hill. Joan had once listened to him and had almost
been converted: he was so tremendously in earnest. She now learnt that
he lived in Curzon Street, Mayfair, and filled, in private life, the
perfectly legitimate calling of a company promoter in partnership with a
Dutch Jew. His latest prospectus dwelt upon the profits to be derived
from an amalgamation of the leading tanning industries: by means of which
the price of leather could be enormously increased.

It was utterly illogical; but her interest in the principles of Social
Democracy was gone.

A very little while ago, Mr. Airlie, in his capacity of second cousin to
one of the ladies concerned, a charming girl but impulsive, had been
called upon to attend a family council of a painful nature. The
gentleman's name took Joan's breath away: it was the name of one of her
heroes, an eminent writer: one might almost say prophet. She had
hitherto read his books with grateful reverence. They pictured for her
the world made perfect; and explained to her just precisely how it was to
be accomplished. But, as far as his own particular corner of it was
concerned, he seemed to have made a sad mess of it. Human nature of
quite an old-fashioned pattern had crept in and spoilt all his own
theories.

Of course it was unreasonable. The sign-post may remain embedded in
weeds: it notwithstanding points the way to the fair city. She told
herself this, but it left her still short-tempered. She didn't care
which way it pointed. She didn't believe there was any fair city.

There was a famous preacher. He lived the simple life in a small house
in Battersea, and consecrated all his energies to the service of the
poor. Almost, by his unselfish zeal, he had persuaded Joan of the
usefulness of the church. Mr. Airlie frequently visited him. They
interested one another. What struck Mr. Airlie most was the
self-sacrificing devotion with which the reverend gentleman's wife and
family surrounded him. It was beautiful to see. The calls upon his
moderate purse, necessitated by his wide-spread and much paragraphed
activities, left but a narrow margin for domestic expenses: with the
result that often the only fi