desolate and haggard virgin, begging her bread on the Polchester streets.
She saw...but never mind her visions. They were terrible ones. She had
recourse to her only defence.

"If I have misunderstood my duty," she said in a trembling voice, "there
is the Library Committee."

"Oh, never mind," said Joan whose anger had disappeared. "It doesn't
matter a bit. We'll have the book after Lady St. Leath."

"Indeed you won't," said Johnny, seizing the volume and forcing it upon
Joan. "Mother can wait. I never heard of such a thing." He turned fiercely
upon Miss Milton. "My mother shall know exactly what has happened. I'm
sure she'd be horrified if she understood that you were keeping books from
other subscribers in order that she might have them.... Good afternoon."

He strode from the room. At the door he paused.

"Can I--Shall we--Are you going down the High Street, Miss Brandon?"

"Yes," said Joan. They went out of the room and down the Library steps
together.

In the shiny, sunny street they paused. The dark cobwebs of the Library
hung behind Joan's consciousness like the sudden breaking of a mischievous
spell.

She was so happy that she could have embraced Andrew, who was, however,
already occupied with the distant aura of a white poodle on the other side
of the street.