Joan had no intention of being lured into the Birmingham parlour. She thought she could see in it a scheme for her gradual entanglement. Besides, she was highly displeased. She had intended asking her father to come to Brighton with her. As a matter of fact, she had forgotten all about Christmas; and the idea only came into her head while explaining to Arthur how his impulsiveness had interfered with it. Arthur, crestfallen, suggested telegrams. It would be quite easy to alter everything; and of course her father would rather be with her, wherever it was. But it seemed it was too late. She ought to have been consulted. A sudden sense of proprietorship in her father came to her assistance and added pathos to her indignation. Of course, now, she would have to spend Christmas alone. She was far too busy to think of Birmingham. She could have managed Brighton. Argument founded on the length of journey to Birmingham as compared with the journey to Brighton she refused to be drawn into. Her feelings had been too deeply wounded to permit of descent into detail. She gave a slight start, for in their letters to one another they had been discussing this very point.!

She had gone on. She heard the closing of the door behind her, and the next moment the cab passed her. Madge had asked Joan to come a little earlier so that they could have a chat together before the others arrived.

Flossie caught sight of the clock and jumped up. “Who was it said that woman would be the last thing man would civilize?” she asked. “Oh, why don’t you chuck it,” advised Miss Ensor, “give the Bourgeois a rest.” “You feel you must beat that drum,” he suggested. “Beat it louder and louder and louder till all the world shall hear it.”