could be seen of them under her towzle of hair--all seemed to light up
together.

'Why, I've always been a Socialist--in theory, you know. I've ALWAYS
rebelled against the established order of things.'

'But latterly,' said Joan, 'I haven't heard anything about your
doings--not since you wrote from Castle Gaverick after--after
Mr Willoughby Maule's marriage?'

The light died out of Bridget's face. 'Ah, I'll tell you--Do you know,
Rosamond saw them--the Willoughby Maules before we all left. She met
them at Shoolbred's--buying furniture. Rosamond said SHE was dragging
after him looking--a bundle--and cross and ill; and that he seemed
intensely bored. Poor Will!'

There was silence, Bridget's thoughts seemed far away.

'But about the Socialism?' prompted Mrs Gildea.

'Oh well, Aunt Eliza made up her mind suddenly to consult her new
doctor--Aunt Eliza's chief excitement is changing her doctors, and she
grows quite youthful in the process. They say that love and religion
are the chief emotional interests of unattached women. I should add on
doctors when a woman is growing old. Don't you think, Joan, that in
that case, all three come invariably to the same thing?'

'Love, religion and doctors! As emotional interests, do they come to
the same thing for elderly women?' repeated Mrs Gildea, as if she were
propounding a syllogism. 'No, certainly not, when the elderly woman