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wish to be sent to boarding…school。 How would you like to go to Girton and be a B。A。 like Miss Allway？〃 she asked； turning to the child。
Phillips's entrance saved the need of a reply。 To the evident surprise of his wife he was in evening clothes。
〃Hulloa。 You've got 'em on；〃 she said。
He laughed。 〃I shall have to get used to them sooner or later；〃 he said。
Joan felt relievedshe hardly knew whythat he bore the test。 It was a well…built； athletic frame； and he had gone to a good tailor。 He looked taller in them； and the strong； clean…shaven face less rugged。
Joan sat next to him at the round dinner…table with the child the other side of him。 She noticed that he ate as far as possible with his right handhis hands were large； but smooth and well shaped his left remaining under the cloth； beneath which the child's right hand； when free； would likewise disappear。 For a while the conversation consisted chiefly of anecdotes by Mr。 Airlie。 There were few public men and women about whom he did not know something to their disadvantage。 Joan； listening； found herself repeating the experience of a night or two previous； when； during a performance of Hamlet； Niel Singleton； who was playing the grave… digger； had taken her behind the scenes。 Hamlet； the King of Denmark and the Ghost were sharing a bottle of champagne in the Ghost's dressing…room： it happened to be the Ghost's birthday。 On her return to the front of the house； her interest in the play was gone。 It was absurd that it should be so； but the fact remained。
Mr。 Airlie had lunched the day before with a leonine old gentleman who every Sunday morning thundered forth Social Democracy to enthusiastic multitudes on Tower Hill。 Joan had once listened to him and had almost been converted： he was so tremendously in earnest。 She now learnt that he lived in Curzon Street； Mayfair； and filled； in private life； the perfectly legitimate calling of a company promoter in partnership with a Dutch Jew。 His latest prospectus dwelt upon the profits to be derived from an amalgamation of the leading tanning industries： by means of which the price of leather could be enormously increased。
It was utterly illogical； but her interest in the principles of Social Democracy was gone。
A very little while ago； Mr。 Airlie； in his capacity of second cousin to one of the ladies concerned； a charming girl but impulsive； had been called upon to attend a family council of a painful nature。 The gentleman's name took Joan's breath away： it was the name of one of her heroes； an eminent writer： one might almost say prophet。 She had hitherto read his books with grateful reverence。 They pictured for her the world made perfect； and explained to her just precisely how it was to be accomplished。 But； as far as his own particular corner of it was concerned； he seemed to have made a sad mess of it。 Human nature of quite an old…fashioned pattern had crept in and spoilt all his own theories。
Of course it was unreasonable。 The sign…post may remain embedded in weeds： it notwithstanding points the way to the fair city。 She told herself this； but it left her still short…tempered。 She didn't care which way it pointed。 She didn't believe there was any fair city。
There was a famous preacher。 He lived the simple life in a small house in Battersea； and consecrated all his energies to the service of the poor。 Almost； by his unselfish zeal； he had persuaded Joan of the usefulness of the church。 Mr。 Airlie frequently visited him。 They interested one another。 What struck Mr。 Airlie most was the self…sacrificing devotion with which the reverend gentleman's wife and family surrounded him。 It was beautiful to see。 The calls upon his moderate purse； necessitated by his wide…spread and much paragraphed activities； left but a narrow margin for domestic expenses： with the result that often the only fire in the house blazed brightly in the study where Mr。 Airlie and the reverend gentleman sat talking： while mother and children warmed themselves with sense of duty in the cheerless kitchen。 And often； as Mr。 Airlie； who was of an inquiring turn of mind； had convinced himself； the only evening meal that resources would permit was the satisfying supper for one brought by the youngest daughter to her father where he sat alone in the small dining…room。
Mr。 Airlie； picking daintily at his food； continued his stories： of philanthropists who paid starvation wages： of feminists who were a holy terror to their women folk： of socialists who travelled first…class and spent their winters in Egypt or Monaco： of stern critics of public morals who preferred the society of youthful affinities to the continued company of elderly wives： of poets who wrote divinely about babies' feet and whose children hated them。
〃Do you think it's all true？〃 Joan whispered to her host。
He shrugged his shoulders。 〃No reason why it shouldn't be；〃 he said。 〃I've generally found him right。〃
〃I've never been able myself；〃 he continued； 〃to understand the Lord's enthusiasm for David。 I suppose it was the Psalms that did it。〃
Joan was about to offer comment； but was struck dumb with astonishment on hearing McKean's voice： it seemed he could talk。 He was telling of an old Scotch peasant farmer。 A mean； cantankerous old cuss whose curious pride it was that he had never given anything away。 Not a crust； nor a sixpence； nor a rag； and never would。 Many had been the attempts to make him break his boast： some for the joke of the thing and some for the need； but none had ever succeeded。 It was his one claim to distinction and he guarded it。
One evening it struck him that the milk…pail； standing just inside the window； had been tampered with。 Next day he marked with a scratch the inside of the pan and； returning later； found the level of the milk had sunk half an inch。 So he hid himself and waited； and at twilight the next day the window was stealthily pushed open； and two small； terror…haunted eyes peered round the room。 They satisfied themselves that no one was about and a tiny hand clutching a cracked jug was thrust swiftly in and dipped into the pan； and the window softly closed。
He knew the thief； the grandchild of an old bed…ridden dame who lived some miles away on the edge of the moor。 The old man stood long； watching the small cloaked figure till it was lost in the darkness。 It was not till he lay upon his dying bed that he confessed it。 But each evening； from that day； he would steal into the room and see to it himself that the window was left ajar。
After the coffee； Mrs。 Phillips proposed their adjourning to the 〃drawing…room〃 the other side of the folding doors； which had been left open。 Phillips asked her to leave Joan and himself where they were。 He wanted to talk to her。 He promised not to bore her for more than ten minutes。
The others rose and moved away。 Hilda came and stood before Joan with her hands behind her。
〃I am going to bed now；〃 she said。 〃I wanted to see you from what Papa told me。 May I kiss you？〃
It was spoken so gravely that Joan did not ask her； as in lighter mood she might have done； what it was that Phillips had said。 She raised her face quietly； a