Ah! At last! Her hand flew out to capture the hat, which was poised, rocking slightly for a moment, like a seagull on a wave. She stooped forward, grabbed the air, tripped and fell flat. Lawrence, who was close behind her, nearly fell over her, but saved himself just in time. He pursued the hat a few steps farther, seized it and then returned to help Joan up; but she had already sprung to her feet with an exclamation of annoyance. "I've won!" laughed Lawrence provokingly. "You're not hurt, are you?" She was, having slightly twisted her ankle, but she lied sulkily. "No, of course not." It seemed to her that he was smiling all over, not only with his mouth, but with his eyes and his glasses and the little brass buttons on his knitted waistcoat. His very shoes twinkled with amusement all over their highly polished toe-caps. Instinctively she stretched out her hand to take the hat from him. "Oh, no!" he taunted. "No, you don't; that's not fair!" Elizabeth was standing still watching them, with her hands pressed against her hair. "Thank you," she said, as Lawrence restored her hat to her; but she looked at Joan and smiled. Joan turned her face away to hide a sudden rush of tears. How ridiculous and childish she was! Fancy a woman of twenty-three wanting to cry over losing the game! They walked on in silence, Joan trying not to limp too obviously, but Elizabeth was observant. "You're hurt," she said, and stood still. Joan denied it. "It's nothing at all; I just twisted my ankle a bit." And she limped on. "Hadn't you better turn back?" suggested Lawrence a little too hopefully. "Look here, Joan, I'll get you a fly." "I don't want a fly, thank you; I'm all right." "No, you're not; do let me call that cab for you; it's awfully unwise to walk on a strained ankle." "Oh, for goodness' sake," snapped Joan, "do let me know for myself whether I'm hurt or not!" She realized that she was behaving badly; she could hear the irritation in her own voice. Moreover, she knew that she was spoiling the walk by limping along and refusing to go home; but some spirit of perverseness was dominating her. She felt that she disliked Lawrence quite enormously, and at that moment she almost disliked Elizabeth. Why had Elizabeth accepted her hat from Lawrence's hand? She should have said something like this: "Give it to Joan, please; I would rather Joan gave me my hat." Ridiculous! She laughed aloud. "What are you laughing at?" inquired Lawrence. "Oh, nothing, only my thoughts." "Can't we share the joke?" "No, it wouldn't amuse you." "Oh, do go back, Joan," said Elizabeth irritably. "You're hardly able to walk." "Do you want me to go back, then?" "Yes, of course I do; and put on a cold water bandage as soon as you get home." Joan looked at her with darkening eyes, and left them abruptly. 4 "What on earth's upset her?" asked Lawrence, genuinely concerned. "Nothing--why? She's not upset." "She seemed angry about something."