stic matters. Joan had established
herself in furnished rooms in a quiet street of pleasant Georgian houses
just behind the Abbey; a member of Parliament and his wife occupied the
lower floors, the landlord, a retired butler, and his wife, an excellent
cook, confining themselves to the basement and the attics. The remaining
floor was tenanted by a shy young man--a poet, so the landlady thought,
but was not sure. Anyhow he had long hair, lived with a pipe in his
mouth, and burned his lamp long into the night. Joan had omitted to ask
his name. She made a note to do so.

They discussed ways and means. Joan calculated she could get through on
two hundred a year, putting aside fifty for dress. Madge was doubtful if
this would be sufficient. Joan urged that she was "stock size" and would
be able to pick up "models" at sales; but Madge, measuring her against
herself, was sure she was too full.

"You will find yourself expensive to dress," she told her, "cheap things
won't go well on you; and it would be madness, even from a business point
of view, for you not to make the best of yourself."

"Men stand more in awe of a well-dressed woman than they do even of a
beautiful woman," Madge was of opinion. "If you go into an office
looking dowdy they'll beat you down. Tell them the price they are
offering you won't keep you in gloves for a week and they'll be ashamed
of themselves. There's nothing _infra dig_. in being mean to the poor;
but not to sympathize with the rich stamps you as middle class." She
laughed.

Joan was worried. "I told Dad I should only ask him for enough to make
up two hundred a year," she explained. "He'll laugh at me for not
knowing my own mind."

"I should let him," advised Madge. She grew thoughtful again. "We
cranky young women, with our new-fangled, independent ways, I guess we
hurt the old folks quite enough as it is."

The bell rang and Madge opened the door herself. It turned out to be
Flossie. Joan had not seen her since they had been at Girton together,
and was surprised at Flossie's youthful "get up." Flossie explained, and
without waiting for any possible attack flew to her own defence.

"The revolution that the world is waiting for," was Flossie's opinion,
"is the providing of every man and woman with a hundred and fifty a year.
Then we shall all be able to afford to be noble and high-minded. As it
is, nine-tenths of the contemptible things we do comes from the necessity