“By the way, Miss Huntingtower doesn’t know all our plans. Keep off the subject of the South. She hasn’t been told anything about that; and I want to keep it from her as long as I can. You understand?” “Yes, if you wish it. But surely she must have some knowledge of the state of affairs. You can’t have managed to keep her in the dark about the whole thing?” “It wasn’t difficult. She looks after certain special branches of my correspondence and so on; and nothing except actual Area business passes through her hands, so she has seen nothing beyond that. And once she finishes her work for the day I’ve made it a rule for her that she takes no further interest in the situation. I told her she must get her mind clear of it at night, or she would get stale and be no use to me. That was quite enough. She doesn’t even read the newspapers.” “But what’s the use of keeping her in the dark? She is bound to know all about it soon enough.” “There’s a great difference, Flint, between learning of a thing after it is irrevocable and hearing of it while there is time to protest against it. Once a catastrophe is over, it _is_ over; and the shock is lighter than if one feels it coming and struggles against it. I don’t wish Miss Huntingtower to hear anything about the South until the whole thing is at an end down there. She’ll accept it then, since there is nothing else for it. I don’t wish her to be put in the position of feeling that she ought to do all she can to prevent its coming about. You understand?” CHAPTER IX Intermezzo