“Perhaps you are right,” she admitted. “Perhaps that is why He made us male and female: to teach us to love.” “No,” Joan admitted. “I went to Rodean at Brighton when I was ten years old, and so escaped it. Nor were you,” she added with a smile, “judging from your accent.”!

“Why did we all like him?” asked Joan. “Even Miss Lavery. There’s nothing extraordinary about him.” “It doesn’t matter, dearie,” she explained. “They know, if they find it open, that I’m in.”

Joan was glad of the assistance. Hilda produced pins. It cast a passing shadow upon her spirits, this necessary descent into details. It brought with it the suggestion of intrigue, of deceit: robbing the thing, to a certain extent, of its fineness. Still, what was to be done? If women were coming into public life these sort of relationships with men would have to be faced and worked out. Sex must no longer be allowed to interfere with the working together of men and women for common ends. It was that had kept the world back. They would be the pioneers of the new order. Casting aside their earthly passions, humbly with pure hearts they would kneel before God’s altar. He should bless their union. “Did you ever see her act?” asked Joan.