aring Cross--say a quarter of an hour.
She might pick up a cab. She grew calmer as she ate and drank. Her
reason seemed to be returning to her. There was no such violent hurry.
Hadn't she better think things over, in the clear daylight? The woman
had been ill now for nearly six weeks: a few hours--a day or two--could
make no difference. It might alarm the poor creature, her unexpected
appearance at such an unusual hour--cause a relapse. Suppose she had
been mistaken? Hadn't she better make a few inquiries first--feel her
way? One did harm more often than good, acting on impulse. After all,
had she the right to interfere? Oughtn't the thing to be thought over as
a whole? Mightn't there be arguments, worth considering, against her
interference? Her brain was too much in a whirl. Hadn't she better wait
till she could collect and arrange her thoughts?

The silver clock upon her desk struck six. It had been a gift from her
father when she was at Girton. It never obtruded. Its voice was a faint
musical chime that she need not hear unless she cared to listen. She
turned and looked at it. It seemed to be a little face looking back at
her out of its two round, blinkless eyes. For the first time during all
the years that it had watched beside her, she heard its quick, impatient
tick.

She sat motionless, staring at it. The problem, in some way, had
simplified itself into a contest between herself, demanding time to
think, and the little insistent clock, shouting to her to act upon blind
impulse. If she could remain motionless for another five minutes, she
would have won.

The ticking of the little clock was filling the room. The thing seemed
to have become alive--to be threatening to burst its heart. But the
thin, delicate indicator moved on.

Suddenly its ticking ceased. It had become again a piece of lifeless
mechanism. The hands pointed to six minutes past. Joan took off her hat
and laid it aside.

She must think the whole thing over quietly.

CHAPTER XIV

She could help him. Without her, he would fail. The woman herself saw
that, and wished it. Why should she hesitate? It was not as if she had
only herself to consider. The fate--the happiness of millions was at
stake. He looked to her for aid--for guidance. It must have been
intended. All roads had led to it. Her going to the house. She
remembered now, it was the first door at which she had knocked. Her
footsteps had surel