The two girls met at tennis and golf. Apart from the discussion of games. Lionel was amused to notice that their visitor pursued Joyce with eagerness, “pumping” her dry about work in the parish, insatiable in her thirst for information. Joyce slaked this thirst, wondering what lay behind such questionings: merely curiosity, or a desire upon the part of a future châtelaine of Pomfret Court to acquaint herself with the internal condition of the small kingdom over which, some day, she might reign. Lady Pomfret, listening placidly, inclined to the latter hypothesis. Several days had passed, nearly a week, and she had duly informed her lord that Lady Margot did “like” Lionel. She was not of the generation that uses lightly the word “love.” And she guessed that “liking” might be enough for their visitor, who openly disdained intense emotions. She dashed at experiences and from them when they threatened to disturb her peace of mind. But she told Lady Pomfret, perhaps designedly, that she got on “swimmingly” with her son. And, apparently, Lionel got on swimmingly with her. The Squire, summing up the situation to his wife, said, with a jolly laugh: “No complaints, my dear Mary, no complaints.” He took for granted that she shared his complacency and prayed night and morning that his desires should be accomplished. Let us admit candidly that Lionel was drifting down-stream. The current of circumstances swirled too strongly for him. He told himself, with futile reiteration, that he must “do his bit.” And the easiest way to do that “bit” was to marry Margot, _if she would have him_, which he thought was most unlikely. He had been asked to call her Margot, and did so. But she remained singularly aloof from the point of view of a prospective lover. This aloofness might be reckoned her “Excalibur,” a naked blade which she deliberately interposed between herself and her cavaliers. Even the clever bounders, with rare exceptions, had not bounded over that. Being human, Lionel felt piqued, recalling Tom Challoner’s words. Was she really cold as Greenland’s icy mountains? But—what a companion! At the end of the first week, Lady Margot learnt through her maid that Mr. Moxon had been refused by Joyce Hamlin. She had heard much of Moxon from Lionel, rather too much, for she had no sympathy with his views, and dismissed them contemptuously as academic and Utopian. Finally, she had silenced Lionel by saying: “I dislike schoolmasters. I regard them as necessary evils, like inspectors of nuisances. They ought never to be seen in society. I always behold them cane in hand, hectoring and lecturing. Enough of your Professor Moxon.” Nevertheless, she knew that he was well-to-do and clever, clever enough to have turned Lionel, neck and crop, out of a snug groove, leaving him hung up to dry amongst windy theories and problems yet unsolved. She had no notion that Moxon’s doctrines had been filtered through Joyce. Why had Joyce refused Moxon?