to be absorbed in the
rearrangement of her hair, feeling a little ashamed of herself. She was
"encouraging" him. There was no other word for it. She seemed to have
developed a sudden penchant for this sort of thing. It would end in his
proposing to her; and then she would have to tell him that she cared for
him only in a cousinly sort of way--whatever that might mean--and that
she could never marry him. She dared not ask herself why. She must
manoeuvre to put it off as long as possible; and meanwhile some opening
might occur to enlighten him. She would talk to him about her work; and
explain to him how she had determined to devote her life to it to the
exclusion of all other distractions. If, then, he chose to go on loving
her--or if he couldn't help it--that would not be her fault. After all,
it did him no harm. She could always be gracious and kind to him. It
was not as if she had tricked him. He had always loved her. Kneeling
before her, serving her: it was evident it made him supremely happy. It
would be cruel of her to end it.

The landlady entered unexpectedly with the tea; but he did not rise till
Joan turned away, nor did he seem disconcerted. Neither did the
landlady. She was an elderly, quiet-eyed woman, and had served more than
one generation of young people with their teas.

They returned home by train. Joan insisted on travelling third class,
and selected a compartment containing a stout woman and two children.
Arthur had to be at the works. An important contract had got behindhand
and they were working overtime. She and her father dined alone. He made
her fulfil her promise to talk about herself, and she told him all she
thought would interest him. She passed lightly over her acquaintanceship
with Phillips. He would regard it as highly undesirable, she told
herself, and it would trouble him. He was reading her articles in the
_Sunday Post_, as also her Letters from Clorinda: and of the two
preferred the latter as being less subversive of law and order. Also he
did not like seeing her photograph each week, displayed across two
columns with her name beneath in one inch type. He supposed he was old-
fashioned. She was getting rather tired of it herself.

"The Editor insisted upon it," she explained. "It was worth it for the
opportunity it gives me. I preach every Sunday to a congregation of over
a million souls. It's better than being a Bishop. Besides," she added,
"the men ar