tance, it had looked quite fine. "Dedicating
herself to the service of Humanity" was how it had presented itself to
her in the garden at Meudon, the twinkling labyrinth of Paris at her
feet, its sordid by-ways hidden beneath its myriad lights. She had not
bargained for the dedication involving the loss of her self-respect.

They did not talk as much as they had thought they would. He was not
very helpful on the Carleton question. There was so much to be said both
for and against. It might be better to wait and see how circumstances
shaped themselves. She thought his speech excellent. It was difficult
to discover any argument against it.

He seemed to be more interested in looking at her when he thought she was
not noticing. That little faint vague fear came back to her and stayed
with her, but brought no quickening of her pulse. It was a fear of
something ugly. She had the feeling they were both acting, that
everything depended upon their not forgetting their parts. In handing
things to one another, they were both of them so careful that their hands
should not meet and touch.

They walked together back to Westminster and wished each other a short
good-night upon what once had been their common doorstep. With her
latchkey in her hand, she turned and watched his retreating figure, and
suddenly a wave of longing seized her to run after him and call him
back--to see his eyes light up and feel the pressure of his hands. It
was only by clinging to the railings and counting till she was sure he
had entered his own house round the corner and closed the door behind
him, that she restrained herself.

It was a frightened face that looked at her out of the glass, as she
stood before it taking off her hat.

She decided that their future meetings should be at his own house. Mrs.
Phillips's only complaint was that she knocked at the door too seldom.

"I don't know what I should do without you, I really don't," confessed
the grateful lady. "If ever I become a Prime Minister's wife, it's you I
shall have to thank. You've got so much courage yourself, you can put
the heart into him. I never had any pluck to spare myself."

She concluded by giving Joan a hug, accompanied by a sloppy but heartfelt
kiss.

She would stand behind Phillips's chair with her fat arms round his neck,
nodding her approval and encouragement; while Joan, seated opposite,
would strain every nerve to keep her brain fixed upon the argument, nev