Joan handed back the letter. It contained nothing else.
"It only came an hour or two ago," her father explained. "If he wrote to
you by the same post, you may have left before it arrived."
"So long as he doesn't think that I came down specially to see him, I
don't mind," said Joan.
They both laughed. "He's a good lad," said her father.
They kissed good night, and Joan went up to her own room. She found it
just as she had left it. A bunch of roses stood upon the dressing-table.
Her father would never let anyone cut his roses but himself.
Young Allway arrived just as Joan and her father had sat down to supper.
A place had been laid for him. He flushed with pleasure at seeing her;
but was not surprised.
"I called at your diggings," he said. "I had to go through London. They
told me you had started. It is good of you."
"No, it isn't," said Joan. "I came down to see Dad. I didn't know you
were back." She spoke with some asperity; and his face fell.
"How are you?" she added, holding out her hand. "You've grown quite good-
looking.
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