This attitude prevailed throughout the evening--on the drive home, and at the excellent supper they sat down to: a stuffed capon and a bottle of wine, truly a genteel feast of reconciliation--but Joanna had grown more aristocratic in her feeding since she bought Great Ansdore. Ellen spoke about her journey--she had had a smooth crossing, but had felt rather ill in the train. It was a long way from Venice--yes, you came through France, and Switzerland too ... the St. Gothard tunnel ... twenty minutes--well, I never?... Yes, a bit smoky--you had to keep the windows shut ... she preferred French to Italian cooking--she did not like all that oil ... oh yes, foreigners were very polite when they knew you, but not to strangers ... just the opposite from England, where people were polite to strangers and rude to their friends. Joanna had never spoken or heard so many generalities in her life. At the end of supper she felt quite tired, what with saying one thing with her tongue and another in her heart. Sometimes she felt that she must say something to break down this unreality, which was between them like a wall of ice--at other times she felt angry, and it was Ellen she wanted to break down, to force out of her superior refuge, and show up to her own self as just a common sinner receiving common forgiveness. But there was something about Ellen which made this impossible--something about her manner, with its cold poise, something about her face, which had indefinitely changed--it looked paler, wider, and there were secrets at the corners of her mouth. This was not the first time that Joanna had seen her sister calm and collected while she herself was flustered--but this evening a sense of her own awkwardness helped to put her at a still greater disadvantage. She found herself making inane remarks, hesitating and stuttering--she grew sulky and silent, and at last suggested that Ellen would like to go to bed. Her sister seemed glad enough, and they went upstairs together. But even the sight of her old bedroom, where the last year of her maidenhood had been spent, even the sight of the new curtains chastening its exuberance with their dim austerity, did not dissolve Ellen's terrible, cold sparkle--her frozen fire. "Good night," said Joanna. "Good night," said Ellen, "may I have some hot water?" "I'll tell the gal," said Joanna tamely, and went out. Sec.32