"You must have such splendid principles to keep you straight," said Eve, and cleared her throat, "I mean, you must have such a lot in you." "Me?" "Yes, of course." "I don't know where it comes in. What have I done?" "Oh, well, it isn't so much what you've done--you have such a good time.... Everybody admires you and all that ... you know what I mean--you're so clever.... You're always in the right." "That's just what everybody hates!" "Well, my dear, I wish I had your mind." "You needn't," said Miriam. "You're all right--you'll come out all right. You're one of those strong-minded people who have to go through a period of doubt." "But, my _dear_," said Miriam grateful and proud, "I feel such a humbug. You know when I wrote that letter to the Fräulein I said I was a member of the Church. I know what it will be, I shall have to take the English girls to church." "Oh, well, you won't mind that." "It will make me simply ill--I could _never_ describe to you," said Miriam, with her face aglow, "what it is to me to hear some silly man drone away with an undistributed middle term." "They're not all like that." "Oh, well, then it will be ignoratio elenchi or argumentum ad hominem----" "Oh, yes, but they're not the _service_." "The service I can't make head or tail of--think of the Athanasian." "Yes." Eve stirred uneasily and began to execute a gentle scale with her tiny tightly-knit blue and white hand upon her knee. "It'll be ghastly," continued Miriam, "not having anyone to pour out to--I've told you such a lot these last few days." "Yes, hasn't it been funny? I seem to know you all at once so much better." "Well--don't you think I'm perfectly hateful?" "No. I admire you more than ever. I think you're simply splendid." "Then you simply don't know me." "Yes I do. And you'll be able to write to me." Eve, easily weeping, hugged her and whispered, "You mustn't. I can't see you break down--don't--don't--don't. We can't be blue your last night.... Think of nice things.... There _will_ be nice things again ... there will, will, will, _will_." Miriam pursed her lips to a tight bunch and sat twisting her long thickish fingers. Eve stood up in her tears. Her smile and the curves of her mouth were unchanged by her weeping, and the crimson had spread and deepened a little in the long oval of her face. Miriam watched the changing crimson. Her eyes went to and fro between it and the neatly pinned masses of brown hair. "I'm going to get some hot water," said Eve, "and we'll make ourselves glorious." Miriam watched her as she went down the long room--the great oval of dark hair, the narrow neck, the narrow back, tight, plump little hands hanging in profile, white, with a purple pad near the wrist. 3