themselves, and he ordered dinner.

"Well, we are safe from Joan here for a little time, at any rate," he
said, laughing. "Are you living with her, then?"

Cicely nodded.

"Yes. We have left the farm. There was very little money, you know,
after all, and Joan and I will have to take situations. At present we
are living upon our capital in the most shameful way. I am afraid she
is completely absorbed by one idea--it is horrible."

"It is odd that she should be so vindictive," he said, wearily.

Cicely shrugged her shoulders. She was intensely interested in the
little brown pot of soup which the waiter had brought them.

"Joan is very peculiar," she said. "When I think of her I feel like a
doll. She is as strong as steel. I think that she cared for you,
Douglas, and, putting aside everything else, you behaved shamefully to
her."

"She is not like other women," he answered decidedly. "Her caring for
me was not a matter of sentiment. Her father ordered, and she obeyed.
She knew quite well that it was exactly the same with me. I have never
uttered a word of affection to her in my life. Our engagement was an
utter farce."

"Still I believe she cared," Cicely continued; "and I believe that,
apart from anything else, a sort of slow anger towards you is rankling