"I don't see how she's different. How is she different from my mother, for instance? And my mother never gets away from Seabourne." It was on the tip of his tongue to say: "Oh! but she is different!" but he checked himself and said: "Well, perhaps some people can stick here and remain human; only I know I couldn't, that's all." She longed to ask him about Cambridge, but she felt shy; his self-confidence was so overpowering, though she liked him in spite of it. It struck her that he had grown more self-confident since last Christmas; she remembered that then he had been dreadfully afraid of being "bottled "; now he didn't seem afraid of anything, of Seabourne least of all. She wondered what he would say if she told him her own trouble; it was difficult to imagine what effect her confidences would have on him; he would probably think them ridiculous and dismiss them with an abrupt comment. "I suppose," she said drearily, "some people have to stick to Seabourne." "There's no '_have to_,'" he replied. "Oh, yes, there is; that's where you don't know. Look at Elizabeth!" "Elizabeth doesn't have to stay here; she's lazy, that's all that's the matter with her." Joan flared at once: "If you think Elizabeth's lazy you can't know much about her; she's staying on here because of her brother. He's delicate, and he can't live alone, and he needs her; I think she's splendid!" "Rot! He isn't a baby to need dry nursing. If Elizabeth had the will I expect she'd find the way. If Elizabeth stops here it's because she's taken root, it's because she likes it; I'm disappointed in Elizabeth!" "She _hates_ it!" said Joan with conviction. He turned and stared at her. "Then why in heaven's name----" he began. "Because everyone doesn't think only of themselves!" She was angry now; she had not been angry for so long that she quite enjoyed the excitement. "Because Elizabeth thinks of other people and wants to be decent to them, and doesn't talk and think only of her own career and of the things that she wants to do. She sacrifices herself, that's why she stays here, and if you can't understand that it's because you're not able to understand the kind of people that really count!" They stopped and faced each other in the path; her eyes glowered, but his were twinkling though his mouth was grave. "If you're talking at me, Joan," he said solemnly, "then you may spare your breath, because you see I know I'm right; I know that even if Elizabeth is splendid and self-sacrificing and all the rest of it, she's dead wrong to waste it on that little dried up brother of hers. She ought to get out and do something for the world at large, or if she can't rise to that then she ought to do something for herself. _I_ think it's a sin to let yourself get drained dry by anyone, I don't care who it is; that wasn't the sort of thing God gave us our brains for; it wasn't why He made us individuals."