“You don’t mean a party?” asked Joan. “Oh, it’s possible,” he answered on rejoining her. “What was his name?”!

“Talk it over with him,” he said. “And bear this in mind for your own guidance.” He took a step forward, which brought his face quite close to hers: “If he fails, and all his life’s work goes for nothing, I shall be sorry; but I shan’t break my heart. He will.” “I’ll be lonely and anxious till you come back,” he said. “But that will have to be my part of the fight.”

“And suppose we do?” agreed Joan, her courage rising. “Why should we shun one another, as if we were both of us incapable of decency or self-control? Why must love be always assumed to make us weak and contemptible, as if it were some subtle poison? Why shouldn’t it strengthen and ennoble us?” “It’s a new world we shall be called upon to build,” he said. “We must pay more heed to the foundation this time.” “Yes,” he answered, “I’m strong enough to fight him. Shall rather enjoy doing it. And it’s time that somebody did. Whether I’m strong enough to win has got to be seen.”