“A probationer, a novice, I suppose?” “She is learning the discipline.” “I have very quick instincts. I don’t think I quite trust that young woman.” Lizzie Straker, who was always ready to argue about anything, simply because she had a temperament that disagreed, rushed to defend Eve. “Why, what’s the matter with her? She came down to starving point, anyhow, for a principle. If that isn’t being sincere, what is?” Their hostess was not accustomed to being met and attacked with such impetuosity. “She doesn’t strike me as belonging to us.” “Why not?” “As I explained, it was my impression. She doesn’t strike me as being serious minded.” “Anyway, she didn’t sit in a chair and theorise. She’s been through the real thing.” Joan Gaunt had to interpose, for the gentlewoman of Horsham was showing signs of huffiness. “Mrs. Falconer sent her with us.” “Mrs. Falconer? That noble woman. I am satisfied. She should know.” They left Horsham about five o’clock the following evening, their knapsacks well packed with food. The gentlewoman of Horsham dismissed them with the fervour of an early Christian, and held Joan Gaunt’s hands for fully half a minute. “It has been such an experience for me. It has been like seeing one’s dearest ideals in the flesh. God bless you!” Joan Gaunt went striding along the Guildford road like a veteran centurion, grim and purposeful. Lizzie Straker had a headache, and Eve offered to carry her knapsack and coat, but Lizzie Straker had a kind of soldier pride. She would carry her own kit till she dropped. “Don’t fuss me, old girl. I’m all right.” Eve enjoyed the long walk, perhaps because her companions were silent. A soft spring dusk was melting over the country. Birds were singing. There were yellow gates to the west. The hedgerows were clean and unsoiled by dust, and a delightful freshness distilled out of the blue-green grass. It was pitch dark long before they reached the point where the road branched off to Godalming, though the sky was crowded with stars. Joan Gaunt had bought a little electric hand-lamp in Horsham, and it served to light up the sign-posts and the dial of her watch. “Here we are.” She had flashed the light on a sign-post arm and read “Godalming.” “What’s the time?” “About half-past ten.” “Galahad won’t be here till midnight.” “No. You have time for a rest.” Lizzie Straker was fagged out. Eve could tell that by the flatness of her voice. They went and sat in a dry ditch under the shadow of a hedge, and put on their jackets, for the double purpose of keeping warm and hiding their white blouses. Lizzie Straker lay down with her knapsack under her head, and in ten minutes she was asleep. “We won’t talk!” “No. I’m quite ready for a rest.”