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He had a sweet； almost girlish face； with delicate skin that the Egyptian sun had deepened into ruddiness； with soft； dreamy eyes and golden hair。 He looked lithe and agile rather than strong。 He was shy at first； but once set going； talked freely； and was interesting。
His work had taken him into the Desert； far from the beaten tracks。 He described the life of the people； very little different from what it must have been in Noah's time。 For months he had been the only white man there； and had lived among them。 What had struck him was how little he had missed all the paraphernalia of civilization； once he had got over the first shock。 He had learnt their sports and games； wrestled and swum and hunted with them。 Provided one was a little hungry and tired with toil； a stew of goat's flesh with sweet cakes and fruits； washed down with wine out of a sheep's skin； made a feast； and after； there was music and singing and dancing； or the travelling story…teller would gather round him his rapt audience。 Paris had only robbed women of their grace and dignity。 He preferred the young girls in their costume of the fourteenth dynasty。 Progress； he thought； had tended only to complicate life and render it less enjoyable。 All the essentials of happinesslove； courtship； marriage； the home； children； friendship； social intercourse； and play； were independent of it； had always been there for the asking。
Joan thought his mistake lay in regarding man's happiness as more important to him than his self…development。 It was not what we got out of civilization but what we put into it that was our gain。 Its luxuries and ostentations were； in themselves； perhaps bad for us。 But the pursuit of them was good。 It called forth thought and effort； sharpened our wits； strengthened our brains。 Primitive man； content with his necessities； would never have produced genius。 Art； literature； science would have been stillborn。
He hesitated before replying； glancing at her furtively while crumbling his bread。 When he did； it was in the tone that one of her younger disciples might have ventured into a discussion with Hypatia。 But he stuck to his guns。
How did she account for David and Solomon； Moses and the Prophets？ They had sprung from a shepherd race。 Yet surely there was genius； literature。 Greece owed nothing to progress。 She had preceded it。 Her thinkers； her poets； her scientists had draws their inspiration from nature； not civilization。 Her art had sprung full grown out of the soil。 We had never surpassed it。
〃But the Greek ideal could not have been the right one； or Greece would not so utterly have disappeared；〃 suggested Mr。 Allway。 〃Unless you reject the law of the survival of the fittest。〃
He had no qualms about arguing with his uncle。
〃So did Archimedes disappear；〃 he answered with a smile。 〃The nameless Roman soldier remained。 That was hardly the survival of the fittest。〃
He thought it the tragedy of the world that Rome had conquered Greece； imposing her lower ideals upon the race。 Rome should have been the servant of Greece： the hands directed by the brain。 She would have made roads and harbours； conducted the traffic； reared the market place。 She knew of the steam engine； employed it for pumping water in the age of the Antonines。 Sooner or later； she would have placed it on rails； and in ships。 Rome should have been the policeman； keeping the world in order； making it a fit habitation。 Her mistake was in regarding these things as an end in themselves； dreaming of nothing beyond。 From her we had inherited the fallacy that man was made for the world； not the world for man。 Rome organized only for man's body。 Greece would have legislated for his soul。
They went into the drawing…room。 Her father asked her to sing and Arthur opened the piano for her and lit the candles。 She chose some ballads and a song of Herrick's； playing her own accompaniment while Arthur turned the leaves。 She had a good voice； a low contralto。 The room was high and dimly lighted。 It looked larger than it really was。 Her father sat in his usual chair beside the fire and listened with half…closed eyes。 Glancing now and then across at him； she was reminded of Orchardson's picture。 She was feeling sentimental； a novel sensation to her。 She rather enjoyed it。
She finished with one of Burns's lyrics； and then told Arthur that it was now his turn； and that she would play for him。 He shook his head； pleading that he was out of practice。
〃I wish it；〃 she said； speaking low。 And it pleased her that he made no answer but to ask her what he should sing。 He had a light tenor voice。 It was wobbly at first； but improved as he went on。 They ended with a duet。
The next morning she went into town with them。 She never seemed to have any time in London； and wanted to do some shopping。 They joined her again for lunch and afterwards； at her father's suggestion； she and Arthur went for a walk。 They took the tram out of the city and struck into the country。 The leaves still lingered brown and red upon the trees。 He carried her cloak and opened gates for her and held back brambles while she passed。 She had always been indifferent to these small gallantries； but to…day she welcomed them。 She wished to feel her power to attract and command。 They avoided all subjects on which they could differ； even in words。 They talked of people and places they had known together。 They remembered their common love of animals and told of the comedies and tragedies that had befallen their pets。 Joan's regret was that she had not now even a dog； thinking it cruel to keep them in London。 She hated the women she met； dragging the poor little depressed beasts about at the end of a string： savage with them； if they dared to stop for a moment to exchange a passing wag of the tail with some other little lonely sufferer。 It was as bad as keeping a lark in a cage。 She had tried a cat： but so often she did not get home till late and that was just the time when the cat wanted to be out； so that they seldom met。 He suggested a parrot。 His experience of them was that they had no regular hours and would willingly sit up all night； if encouraged； and talk all the time。 Joan's objection to running a parrot was that it stamped you as an old maid； and she wasn't that； at least； not yet。 She wondered if she could make an owl really happy。 Minerva had an owl。
He told her how one spring； walking across a common； after a fire； he had found a mother thrush burnt to death upon her nest； her charred wings spread out in a vain endeavour to protect her brood。 He had buried her there among the blackened thorn and furze； and placed a little cross of stones above her。
〃I hope nobody saw me；〃 he said with a laugh。 〃But I couldn't bear to leave her there； unhonoured。〃
〃It's one of the things that make me less certain than I want to be of a future existence；〃 said Joan： 〃the thought that animals can have no part in it； that all their courage and love and faithfulness dies with them and is wasted。〃
〃Are you sure it is？〃 he answered。 〃It would be so unreasonable。〃
They had tea at an old…fashioned inn beside a stream。 It was a favourite resort in s