"Miss Vigers? But she resigned! She had been meaning to leave! She told us so! Do you mean that she didn't want to leave? Do you mean that she had to?" "Have you ever seen a liner launched? You press an electric button, you know--just a touch--it's awfully simple----" She paused, eyes dancing. But Alwynne had no answering twinkle. "I wouldn't have believed it," she said slowly. Then, distractedly, "But why, Clare, why? What possessed you?" "She got in my way," said Clare indolently. Alwynne turned on her, eyes blazing. "You mean to say--you deliberately did that poor old thing out of her job? If you did----But I don't believe it. If you did----Clare, excuse me--but I think it was beastly." "_Demon! With the highest respect to you_----" quoted Clare, tongue in cheek. But Alwynne was not to be pacified. "Clare--you didn't, did you?" "My dear, she was in the way. She worried you and you worried me. I don't like being worried." Alwynne shivered. "Don't, Clare! I hate you to talk like that--even in fun. It's--it's so cold-blooded." "In fun!" Clare laughed lightly. Alwynne's youthful severity amused her. But she had gone, she perceived, a trifle too far. "Well, then, in earnest--joking apart----" Alwynne's face relaxed. Of course, she had known all along that Clare was in fun.... "Joking apart--it was time for Miss Vigers to go. I admit saying what I thought to Miss Marsham. I am quite ready to take responsibility. She was too old--too fussy--too intolerant--I can't stand intolerance. She had to go." Alwynne looked wicked. "Clare, you remind me of a man I met, down at Compton. You ought to get on together. He's great on tolerance too. So tolerant that five hundred years ago he'd have burned every one who wasn't as tolerant as he. As it is, he shrugs them out of existence, _à la_ Podsnap. Just as you did Miss Vigers just now." "Who was he?" "Don't know--only met him once. But he tickled me awfully. He hadn't the faintest idea how funny he was." "Did he shrug you out of existence?" "My dear Clare--could any one snub me? You might as well snub a rubber ball." "Yes, you're pretty thick-skinned." Clare paid her back reflectively. Alwynne winced. "Am I? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be. How, just now?" Clare yawned. "Well, for one thing, you needn't flavour your conversation exclusively with Denes. They bore me worse than if they had an 'a' in them." "I'm sorry." Alwynne paused. Then she plucked up courage. "Clare, I stayed there two months. The Dene people are my friends, my great friends. I don't think you need sneer at them." Clare yawned again. "I wonder you ever came back, if they're so absorbing. What is the particular attraction there, by the way? The old women or the young men?" Alwynne's lips quivered. "Clare, what has happened? What is the matter with you nowadays? Why are you grown so different? Why are you always saying unkind things?" Clare shrugged her shoulders.