"You want me to go away and hide?" she asked from there, her voice dangerously quiet. He glanced up at her. "Keep out of the mater's way," he acknowledged, "she would have seven fits." "Why?" asked Joan. "Why," he repeated, "good Lord, you don't know the mater. She----" Joan interrupted. "You are ashamed of me," she spoke quickly, her face had flushed. "You have always been a little ashamed of me. You have never really looked at it as I did. I thought----" she broke off and turned away from him, stupid hot tears were blinding her eyes, she did not want to cry, it was so useless and childish. Gilbert stuffed his mother's letter into his pocket and rose to his feet, stretching a little as he moved. "Don't be ridiculous, kiddie," he said, "you must see it would not do for you to meet the mater. She is old-fashioned and--well, she would not understand." "We could make her understand," Joan whispered, "if she saw we both really meant it." "Well, I don't want you to try," he answered bluntly. "Don't you feel the same about me as if I were your wife?" She knew he was close beside her, but she did not turn to look at him. Gilbert put an arm round her and drew her close. "Of course I do," he said, "but mother wouldn't. One does not exactly introduce one's mother to one's mistress." The inclination to tears had left Joan, a very set calm had taken its place. Suddenly she knew, as she stood there stiff held within the circle of his arms, that it was all ended. The dream, if it had been a dream, was finished, she could not live in it any longer. "Very well," she agreed listlessly. "I will see about going away, the place shall be all ready for her to-morrow." She moved away from him, he did not notice how purposely she shook the touch of his hands from off her. CHAPTER III "Out of my dreams, I fashioned a flower; Nursed it within my heart, Thought it my dower. What wind is this that creeps within and blows Roughly away the petals of my rose?" M. P. "That is the end of lying," whispered Joan. She threw down her cloak to keep the corner seat in the carriage and stepped out on to the platform to see if she could catch sight of a paper boy. She had not seen Gilbert since the morning. He had had an appointment in the city, he had left it to her to get the flat ready for his mother. And she had done everything, there was nothing that she could reproach herself with. She had engaged an extra room for Gilbert on the next floor, she had bought fresh flowers, she had made the place look as pretty as possible. It had not taken her long to do her own packing, there was nothing of hers left anywhere about. And all morning she had kept the window overlooking the Park tight shut. The scent of flowers should bring no disturbing memories to weaken her resolve. Then when everything had been quite settled she had sat down to write just a short note to Gilbert.