It was the fear that had been haunting her. She did not know how white she had turned. “It sounds like Meredith,” suggested Joan. “I am not quite sure.”!

“I should keep out of it if I were you,” laughed Joan. “I’ve always been considered good at asking awkward questions,” she assured him.

Her anger betrayed itself in her tone; and he shot a swift glance at her. “And having learned that respectable journalism has no use for brains, you come to me,” he answered her. “What do you think you can do?” They were but children, these tired men and women, just released from their day’s toil, hastening homeward to their play, or to their evening tasks. A little humour, a little understanding, a recognition of the wonderful likeness of us all to one another underneath our outward coverings was all that was needed to break down the barrier, establish comradeship. She stood aside a moment to watch them streaming by. Keen, strong faces were among them, high, thoughtful brows, kind eyes; they must learn to think, to speak for themselves.