It was spring and the gloom of the room was somewhat dispelled by the bright bunch of daffodils which Elizabeth had brought with her for the table. At this table she sat with her two pupils; there was silence except for the scratching of pens. Elizabeth Rodney leant back in her chair; what light there was from the window slanted on to her strong brown hair that waved persistently around her ears. Her eyes looked inattentive, or rather as if their attention were riveted on something a long way away; her fine, long hands were idly folded in her lap; she had a trick of folding her hands in her lap. She was so neat that it made you uncomfortable, so spotless that it made you feel dirty, yet there was something in the set of her calm mouth that made you doubtful. Calm it certainly was, and yet ... one could not help wondering.... Just now she looked discouraged; she sighed. "Finished!" said Joan, passing over her copy-book. Elizabeth examined it. "That's all right." Milly toiled, the pen blotted, tears filled her eyes, one fell and made the blot run. "Four and ten and fifteen and seven, that makes----" "Thirty-six," said Elizabeth. "Now we'll go out." They got up and put away the books. Outside, the March wind blew briskly, the sea glared so that it hurt your eyes, and around the coast the white cliffs curved low and distinct. "Let's go up there," said Elizabeth, pointing to the cliffs. "Joan, Joan!" called Mrs. Ogden from the drawing-room window, "where is your hat?" "Oh, not to-day, Mother. I like the feel of the wind in my hair." "Nonsense, come in and get your hat." Joan sighed. "I suppose I must," she said. "You two go on, I'll catch you up." She ran in and snatched a tam-o'-shanter from the hall table. "Don't forget my knitting wool, dear." "No, Mother, but we were going on to the downs." "The downs to-day? Why, you'll be blown away!" "Oh, no, Miss Rodney and I love wind." "Well, as you come home, then." "All right. Good-bye, Mother." "Good-bye, darling." 2 Joan ran after the retreating figures. "Here I am," she said breathlessly. "Is it Cone Head or the Golf Course?" "Cone Head to-day," replied Elizabeth. There was something in her voice that attracted Joan's attention, a decision, a kind of defiance that seemed out of place. It was as if she had said: "I _will_ go to Cone Head, I want to get out of this beastly place, to get up above it and forget it." Joan eyed her curiously. To Milly she was just the governess who gave you sums and always, except when in such a mood as to-day, saw that you did them; but to Joan she was a human being. To Milly she was "Miss Rodney," to Joan, privately at all events, "Elizabeth." They walked on in silence. Milly began to lag. "I'm tired to-day, let's go into the arcade." "Why?" demanded Joan. "Because I like the shops." "We don't," said Joan. Milly lagged more obviously. "Come, Milly, walk properly, please," said Elizabeth.