It puzzled them for a time. Because a girl's
features are classical and her colouring attractive, surely that has
nothing to do with the value of her political views? Until one of them
discovered by chance that it has.
"Well, what does Beauty think about it?" this one had asked, laughing.
She had arrived at the end of a discussion just as Joan was leaving the
room. And then she gave a long low whistle, feeling that she had
stumbled upon the explanation. Beauty, that mysterious force that from
the date of creation has ruled the world, what does It think? Dumb,
passive, as a rule, exercising its influence unconsciously. But if it
should become intelligent, active! A Philosopher has dreamed of the vast
influence that could be exercised by a dozen sincere men acting in unity.
Suppose a dozen of the most beautiful women in the world could form
themselves into a league! Joan found them late in the evening still
discussing it.
Her mother died suddenly during her last term, and Joan hurried back to
attend the funeral. Her father was out when she reached home.
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