“Never mind about that, Joanie; I have enough for the present, if we are careful.” “It is so tiresome of Horace to be away just when I want him most,” continued Joan, “but he’ll come to-morrow; he has enough to do; he ought to be able to help me. Do try and be in early to-morrow.” Embrance shook her head. “I can’t be home till seven o’clock.” “Put off that stupid lesson.” “I’m afraid it is impossible.” “I want you to see Horace. You never do anything I ask you!” “I am very sorry, Joan.” “What’s the good of being sorry?” asked Joan, pettishly. “No, no! I don’t mean it!” She turned round sharply and saw that her friend’s eyes were full of tears. In a second, she had flung down her book and was kneeling at Embrance’s chair: “Do forgive me, it isn’t true. You are the only person in the world who has real patience with me. Don’t mind what I said; I didn’t mean it.” It took some time to calm Joan down after her fit of penitence, but at last she went back to her novel. Embrance sat with both arms on the table; the translation got no farther. Her heart was full of love for her friend, and yet—she had her fair share of common sense—she could not but see that Joan was thoroughly unfit for her present mode of life. She was just one of those girls who would be happiest in a home of her own. Here, for once, Embrance found herself cordially agreeing with Emily Fulloch, who was as old-fashioned in her notions as it was possible for a narrow-minded spinster to be. Perhaps a “brain-wave” of sympathy passed from one friend to another at that moment, for Joan looked up from her book: “Darling, I think you will like Horace better than Mr. Brownhill, though he is not so good-looking. I hope you will!” “I will try,” said Embrance, jumping up to kiss Joan; “I will try my hardest, for your sake.” Joan blushed, and Embrance began talking of other matters. A week later, Mrs. Rakely (a friend of the Fullochs) came to London. She stayed at an hotel close by, and was glad of Joan’s company, as she wished to get through as much sight-seeing as she conveniently—or inconveniently—could in the space of a fortnight.