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"Why, Alice," she said, "Gilbert means nothing to me.He's a dear old thing; he's awfully nice to look at; he sums things up in a way that makes me laugh; and he dances like a streak.But as to flirting with him or anything of that sort--why, my dear, he looks on me as a little boob from the country, and in my eyes he's simply a man who carries a latchkey to amusement and can give me a good time.That's true.I swear it."It was true, and Alice realized it, with immense relief.She dried her eyes and held Joan away from her at arm's length and looked at her young, frank, intrepid face with puzzled admiration.It didn't go with her determined trifling."I shall always believe what you tell me, Joan," she said."You've taken a bigger load than you imagine off my heart--which is Gilbert's.And now sit down again and be comfortable and let's do what we used to do at school at night and talk about ourselves.We've both changed since those days, haven't we?""Have we? I don't think I have." Joan took another cigarette and went back to her chair.Her small round shoulders looked very white against the black of a velvet cushion.If there was nothing boyish or unfeminine about her, there was certainly an indefinable appearance of being untouched, unawakened.She was the same girl who had been found by Martin that afternoon clean-cut against the sky--the determined individualist.

Alice sat in front of her on a low stool with her hands clasped round a knee."What a queer mixture you are of--of town and country, Joany.You're like a piece of honeysuckle playing at being an orchid.""That's because I'm a kid," said Joan."The horrible hour will come when I shall be an orchid and try and palm myself off as honeysuckle, never fear.""Don't you think marriage has changed you a little?" asked Alice.

"It usually does.It changed me from an empty-headed little fool to a woman with oh, such a tremendous desire to be worthy of it.""Yes, but then you married for love."

"Didn't you, Joany?"

"I? Marry for love?" Joan waved her arm for joy at the idea.

Alice knew the story of the escape from old age.She also knew from the way in which Martin looked at Joan why he had given her his name and house.Here was her chance to get to the bottom of a constant puzzle."You may not have married for love," she said, "but of course you're fond of Martin."Joan considered the matter.It might be a good thing to go into it now that there was an unexpected lull in the wild rush that she had made to get into life.There had been something rather erratic about Martin's comings and goings during the last week.She hadn't spoken to him since the night at the Ritz.

"Yes, I am fond of him," she said."That's the word.As fond as Imight be of a very nice, sound boy whom I'd known all my life.""Is that all?"

Joan made a series of smoke rings and watched them curl into the air."Yes, that's all," she said.

Alice became even more interested and curious and puzzled.She held very serious views about marriage."And are you happy with him?""I don't know that I can be said to be happy with him," said Joan.

"I'm perfectly happy as things are."

"Tell me how they are." There was obviously something here that was far from right.

Joan was amused at her friend's gravity.She had always been a responsible little person with very definite and old-fashioned views."Well," she said, "it's a charming little story, really.Iwas the maiden who had to be rescued from the ugly castle, and Martin was the knight who performed the deed.And being a knight with a tremendous sense of convention and a castle of his own full of well-trained servants, it didn't seem to him that he could give me the run of his house in the Paul and Virginia manner, which isn't being done now; and so, like a little gentleman, he married me, or as I suppose you would put it, went through the form of marriage.