Even then it didn't occur to Joan that there was anything serious in
the business. "I'll be as frank as the front page of The Times--'All
the news that's fit to print,'" she said. "What do you want to
know?"

Alice proved her courage. She drew up a chair, bent forward and came
straight to the point. "Be honest with me, Joan, even if you have to
hurt me. Gilbert is very handsome, and women throw themselves at
him. I did, I suppose; but having won him and being still in my
first year of marriage, I'm naturally jealous when he lets himself
be drawn off by them. The women who have tried to take Gilbert away
from me I didn't know, and they owed me no friendship. But you're
different, and I can't believe that you--"

Joan broke in with a peal of laughter. "Can't you? Why not? I
haven't got wings on my shoulders. Isn't everything fair in love and
war?"

Alice drew back. She had many times been called prim and old-
fashioned, especially at school, by Joan and others when men were
talked about, and the glittering life that lay beyond the walls.
Sophistication, to put it mildly, had been the order of the day in
that temporary home of the young idea. But this calm declaration of
disloyalty took her color away, and her breath. Here was honesty
with a vengeance!

"Joan!" she cried. "Joan!" And she put up her hand as though to ward
off an unbelievable thought.