"It would
be a blessing all round."
They had risen. Joan folded her hands. "Thank you for your scolding,
ma'am," she said. "Shall I write out a hundred lines of Greek? Or do
you think it will be sufficient if I promise never to do it again?"
"You mean it?" said Flossie. "Of course you will go on seeing
him--visiting them, and all that. But you won't go gadding about, so
that people can talk?"
"Only through the bars, in future," she promised. "With the gaoler
between us." She put her arms round Flossie and bent her head, so that
her face was hidden.
Flossie still seemed troubled. She held on to Joan.
"You are sure of yourself?" she asked. "We're only the female of the
species. We get hungry and thirsty, too. You know that, kiddy, don't
you?"
Joan laughed without raising her face. "Yes, ma'am, I know that," she
answered. "I'll be good."
She sat in the dusk after Flossie had gone; and the laboured breathing of
the tired city came to her through the open window. She had rather
fancied that martyr's crown. It had not looked so very heavy, the thorns
not so very alarming--as seen through the window.
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