“Well, what does Beauty think about it?” this one had asked, laughing. She had arrived at the end of a discussion just as Joan was leaving the room. And then she gave a long low whistle, feeling that she had stumbled upon the explanation. Beauty, that mysterious force that from the date of creation has ruled the world, what does It think? Dumb, passive, as a rule, exercising its influence unconsciously. But if it should become intelligent, active! A Philosopher has dreamed of the vast influence that could be exercised by a dozen sincere men acting in unity. Suppose a dozen of the most beautiful women in the world could form themselves into a league! Joan found them late in the evening still discussing it. “Oh, may I?” answered Joan.!

“She’ll only pawn it,” said the girl, “to buy him grapes and port wine.” Their arms were about one another. Joan felt that a new need had been born in her: the need of loving and of being loved. It was good to lay her head upon his breast and know that he was glad of her coming.

In answer the tears sprang to Joan’s eyes. She knelt down and put her arms about the woman. And suddenly, as he stooped, there must have come a great light into his eyes. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” she said. “I was just wanting you.”