Joan laid down the paper. No, she was utterly incapable of doing any of these things; incapable, it seemed, of filling any position of trust. She had been brilliant once, but it had led to nothing; people would not be interested in what she might have become. She supposed she could go into a shop, but what shop? They liked young, sprack women to stand behind counters, not grey-haired novices of forty-five; and besides, there were her varicose veins. 2 The door-bell rang and Aunt Ann walked in. Behind her, leaning on an ebony stick, came the little old Bishop of Blumfield. Aunt Ann sat down with an air of determination and motioned the bishop to a chair. "No, thank you; I prefer to stand up," he said stubbornly. His wife shrugged her shoulders and turned to Joan. "It's time we had a serious talk," she said. "The first thing, my dear, is how much have you got to live on?" "Rather less than fifty pounds a year. You see we had to sell out some capital and mother's pension died with her." Aunt Ann sniffed disapprovingly. "It's never wise to tamper with capital, but I suppose it was inevitable; in any case what's done is done. You can't live on fifty pounds a year, I hope you realize." "No, of course not," Joan agreed. "I shall have to find work of some kind, but there seem to be more applicants than posts, as far as I can see; and then I'm not up to the modern standard, people want a lot for their money these days." "I cannot imagine," piped the bishop in his thin, old voice, "I cannot imagine, Ann, why Joan should not live with us; she could make herself useful to you about the house, and besides, I should like to have her." His wife frowned at him. "Good gracious, Oswald, what an unpractical suggestion! I'm sure Joan wouldn't like it at all; she'd feel that she was living on charity. I should, in her place; the Routledges have always been very independent, high-spirited people." Joan flushed. "Thank you awfully, Uncle Oswald, for wanting me, but I don't think it would do," she said hastily. "Of course not," Aunt Ann agreed. "Now, the point is, Joan, have you got anything in view?" During the pause that ensued Joan racked her brain for some dignified and convincing reply. It seemed incredible to her that she had not got anything in view, that out of all the innumerable advertisements she had been unable to find one that seemed really suitable. Her aunt's eyes were scanning her face with curiosity. "I thought you were always considered the clever one," she remarked. Joan laughed rather bitterly. "That was centuries ago, Aunt Ann. The world has progressed since then." "Do you mean to say that you feel unfitted for any of the careers now open to women?" inquired her aunt incredulously. "That's precisely what I do feel. You see one needs experience or a business education for most things, and if you're going to teach, of course you must have a degree. I've neither the time nor the money to begin all over again at forty-five."