The little divorcée remarked in an aside to Joan, "He certainly does make you think, this high-brow beau of yours! But I _like_ to think, sometimes." It taught Joan a lesson. She recalled a sentence of Trevelyan's: "A man who has too much sense to overrate his own qualities will often make amends to his self-esteem by underrating his neighbor's." She realized that she might have been making such a mistake herself. If, as she had complained, there was no real talk to be had in society, were not she and people like her responsible? If a scholar such as Stefan Nikolai found it worth while to give of his best to simpler comprehensions, was it not pretentious and even ridiculous of a Joan Blair to "talk down" to them, tactfully adapting herself to their limitations while concealing yawns behind her hand? She had the grace to blush for herself.... The companionship of Joan and Nikolai was, as Louisville interestedly suspected, not an entirely intellectual one, however. Like all people who work hard with their heads (and Nikolai spent many hours at his desk daily, even in holiday seasons), he knew the full value of play, and had always been to Joan the most delightful of play-fellows. In her childhood he had often borrowed her for what they called "expeditions"--visits to circuses, zoölogical gardens, museums; boat-journeys, picnics--always to the surprise of Major Darcy, who regarded a child as a desirable addition to any family, something to be petted, and instructed, and even romped with in moderation, but by no means to be made a companion of. These expeditions renewed themselves now in modified form. The two were constantly to be met with in the most unexpected places--tramping about the parks in the rain, making tea over a gipsy fire by the roadside, climbing, their pockets bulging with books and apples, to the top of a certain hill whence miles of wild rolling country were to be seen, and the city behind them was as if it had never been. Joan had no longer to enjoy the Beauty of the World alone. The hill became their favorite haunt; and all through the open winter they climbed to its top almost daily, where in the shelter of the cliff they built themselves a little fire and sat, their backs to the world, reading and munching apples, and talking, talking endlessly. Joan never felt that any subject bad been exhausted between them. It seemed to her that the thoughts of a lifetime had been accumulating in her mind, waiting for him to pass judgment upon them; and to him it was no less than a miracle to watch her brain expanding, enlarging, visibly blossoming under the nourishment he supplied. Perhaps her brain was not the only thing Nikolai loved to watch about Joan. He usually managed to seat himself a little behind her, out of her range of vision, so that his own might rest where it chose, unobserved. But he asked no more; having learned of life to practise the Hüttengluck which he did not preach.