ds　of　sullen　indifference：　　all　her　music　turned　to　waste。
  〃How　did　she　come　to　fall　in　love　with　you？〃　asked　Joan。　　〃I　don't　mean　to　be　uncomplimentary；　Dad。〃　　She　laughed；　taking　his　hand　in　hers　and　stroking　it。　　〃You　must　have　been　ridiculously　handsome；　when　you　were　young。　　And　you　must　always　have　been　strong　and　brave　and　clever。　　I　can　see　such　a　lot　of　women　falling　in　love　with　you。　　But　not　the　artistic　woman。〃
  〃It　wasn't　so　incongruous　at　the　time；〃　he　answered。　　〃My　father　had　sent　me　out　to　America　to　superintend　a　contract。　　It　was　the　first　time　I　had　ever　been　away　from　home；　though　I　was　nearly　thirty；　and　all　my　pent…up　youth　rushed　out　of　me　at　once。　　It　was　a　harum…scarum　fellow；　mad　with　the　joy　of　life；　that　made　love　to　her；　not　the　man　who　went　out；　nor　the　man　who　came　back。　　It　was　at　San　Francisco　that　I　met　her。　　She　was　touring　the　Western　States；　and　I　let　everything　go　to　the　wind　and　followed　her。　　It　seemed　to　me　that　Heaven　had　opened　up　to　me。　　I　fought　a　duel　in　Colorado　with　a　man　who　had　insulted　her。　　The　law　didn't　run　there　in　those　days；　and　three　of　his　hired　gunmen；　as　they　called　them；　held　us　up　that　night　in　the　train　and　gave　her　the　alternative　of　going　back　with　them　and　kissing　him　or　seeing　me　dead　at　her　feet。　I　didn't　give　her　time　to　answer；　nor　for　them　to　finish。　　It　seemed　a　fine　death　anyhow；　that。　　And　I'd　have　faced　Hell　itself　for　the　chance　of　fighting　for　her。　　Though　she　told　me　afterwards　that　if　I'd　died　she'd　have　gone　back　with　them；　and　killed　him。〃
  Joan　did　not　speak　for　a　time。　　She　could　see　him　gravea　little　pompous；　in　his　Sunday　black；　his　footsteps　creaking　down　the　stone…flagged　aisle；　the　silver…edged　collecting　bag　held　stiffly　in　his　hand。
  〃Couldn't　you　have　saved　a　bit；　Daddy？〃　she　asked；　〃of　all　that　wealth　of　youthjust　enough　to　live　on？〃
  〃I　might；〃　he　answered；　〃if　I　had　known　the　value　of　it。　　I　found　a　cable　waiting　for　me　in　New　York。　　My　father　had　been　dead　a　month；　and　I　had　to　return　immediately。〃
  〃And　so　you　married　her　and　took　her　drum　away　from　her；〃　said　Joan。　　〃Oh；　the　thing　God　gives　to　some　of　us；〃　she　explained；　〃to　make　a　little　noise　with；　and　set　the　people　marching。〃
  The　little　flame　died　out。　　She　could　feel　his　body　trembling。
  〃But　you　still　loved　her；　didn't　you；　Dad？〃　she　asked。　　〃I　was　very　little　at　the　time；　but　I　can　just　remember。　　You　seemed　so　happy　together。　　Till　her　illness　came。〃
  〃It　was　more　than　love；〃　he　answered。　　〃It　was　idolatry。　　God　punished　me　for　it。　　He　was　a　hard　God；　my　God。〃
  She　raised　herself；　putting　her　hands　upon　his　shoulders　so　that　her　face　was　very　close　to　his。　　〃What　has　become　of　Him；　Dad？〃　she　said。　　She　spoke　in　a　cold　voice；　as　one　does　of　a　false　friend。
  〃I　do　not　know；〃　he　answered　her。　　〃I　don't　seem　to　care。〃
  〃He　must　be　somewhere；〃　she　said：　　〃the　living　God　of　love　and　hope：　　the　God　that　Christ　believed　in。〃
  〃They　were　His　last　words；　too；〃　he　answered：　　〃'My　God；　my　God；　why　hast　Thou　forsaken　me？'〃
  〃No；　not　His　last；〃　said　Joan：　　〃'Lo；　I　am　with　you　always；　even　unto　the　end　of　the　world。'　　Love　was　Christ's　God。　　He　will　help　us　to　find　Him。〃
  Their　arms　were　about　one　another。　　Joan　felt　that　a　new　need　had　been　born　in　her：　　the　need　of　loving　and　of　being　loved。　　It　was　good　to　lay　her　head　upon　his　breast　and　know　that　he　was　glad　of　her　coming。
  He　asked　her　questions　about　herself。　　But　she　could　see　that　he　was　tired；　so　she　told　him　it　was　too　important　a　matter　to　start　upon　so　late。　　She　would　talk　about　herself　to…morrow。　　It　would　be　Sunday。
  〃Do　you　still　go　to　the　chapel？〃　she　asked　him　a　little　hesitatingly。
  〃Yes；〃　he　answered。　　〃One　lives　by　habit。〃
  〃It　is　the　only　Temple　I　know；〃　he　continued　after　a　moment。　〃Perhaps　God；　one　day；　will　find　me　there。〃
  He　rose　and　lit　the　gas；　and　a　letter　on　the　mantelpiece　caught　his　eye。
  〃Have　you　heard　from　Arthur？〃　he　asked；　suddenly　turning　to　her。
  〃No。　　Not　since　about　a　month；〃　she　answered。　　〃Why？〃
  〃He　will　be　pleased　to　find　you　here；　waiting　for　him；〃　he　said　with　a　smile；　handing　her　the　letter。　　〃He　will　be　here　some　time　to…morrow。〃
  Arthur　Allway　was　her　cousin；　the　son　of　a　Nonconformist　Minister。　Her　father　had　taken　him　into　the　works　and　for　the　last　three　years　he　had　been　in　Egypt；　helping　in　the　laying　of　a　tramway　line。　　He　was　in　love　with　her：　　at　least　so　they　all　told　her；　and　his　letters　were　certainly　somewhat　committal。　　Joan　replied　to　themwhen　she　did　not　forget　to　do　soin　a　studiously　sisterly　vein；　and　always　reproved　him　for　unnecessary　extravagance　whenever　he　sent　her　a　present。　　The　letter　announced　his　arrival　at　Southampton。　　He　would　stop　at　Birmingham；　where　his　parents　lived；　for　a　couple　of　days；　and　be　in　Liverpool　on　Sunday　evening；　so　as　to　be　able　to　get　straight　to　business　on　Monday　morning。　　Joan　handed　back　the　letter。　　It　contained　nothing　else。
  〃It　only　came　an　hour　or　two　ago；〃　her　father　explained。　　〃If　he　wrote　to　you　by　the　same　post；　you　may　have　left　before　it　arrived。〃
  〃So　long　as　he　doesn't　think　that　I　came　down　specially　to　see　him；　I　don't　mind；〃　said　Joan。
  They　both　laughed。　　〃He's　a　good　lad；〃　said　her　father。
  They　kissed　good　night；　and　Joan　went　up　to　her　own　room。　　She　found　it　just　as　she　had　left　it。　　A　bunch　of　roses　stood　upon　the　dressing…table。　　Her　father　would　never　let　anyone　cut　his　roses　but　himself。
  Young　Allway　arrived　just　as　Joan　and　her　father　had　sat　down　to　supper。　　A　place　had　been　laid　for　him。　　He　flushed　with　pleasure　at　seeing　her；　but　was　not　surprised。
  〃I　called　at　your　diggings；〃　he　said。　　〃I　had　to　go　through　London。　They　told　me　you　had　started。　　It　is　good　of　you。〃
  〃No；　it　isn't；〃　said　Joan。　　〃I　came　down　to　see　Dad。　　I　didn't　know　you　were　back。〃　　She　spoke　with　some　asperity；　and　his　face　fell。
  〃How　are　you？〃　she　added；　holding　out　her　hand。　　〃You've　grown　quite　good…looking。　　I　like　your　moustache。〃　　And　he　flushed　again　with　pleasure。
  He　had　a　sweet；　almost　girlish　face；　with　delicate　skin　that　the　Egyptian　sun　had　deepened　into　ruddiness；　with　soft；　dreamy　eyes　and　golden　hair。　　He　looked　lithe　and　agile　rather　than　strong。　　He　was　shy　at　first；　but　once　set　going；　talked　freely；　and　was　interesting。
  His　work　had　taken　him　into　the　Desert；　far　from　the　beaten　tracks。　He　described　the　life　of　the　people；　very　little　different　from　what　it　must　have　been　in　Noah's　time。　　For　months　he　had　been　the　only　white　man　there；　and　had　lived　among　them。　　What　had　struck　him　was　how　little　he　had　missed　all　the　paraphernalia　of　civilization；　once　he　had　got　over　the　first　shock。　　He　had　learnt　their　sports　and　games；　wrestled　and　swum　and　hunted　with　them。　Provided　one　was　a　little　hungry　and　tired　with　toil；　a　stew　of　goat's　flesh　with　sweet　cakes　and　fruits；　washed　down　with　wine　out　of　a　sheep's　skin；　made　a　feast；　and　after；　there　was　music　and　singing　and　dancing；　or　the　travelling　story…teller　would　gather　round　him　his　rapt　audience。　　Paris　had　only　robbed　women　of　their　grace　and　dignity。　　He　preferred　the　young　girls　in　their　costume　of　the　fourteenth　dynasty。　　Progress；　he　thought；　had　tended　only　to　complicate　life　and　render　it　less　enjoyable。　　All　the　essentials　of　happinesslove；　courtship；　marriage；　the　home；　children；　friendship；　social　intercourse；　and　play；　were　independent　of　it；　had　always　been　there　for　the　asking。
  Joan　thought　his　mistake　lay　in　regarding　man's　happiness　as　more　important　to　him　than　his　self…development。　　It　was　not　what　we　got　out　of　civilization　but　what　we　put　into　it　that　was　our　gain。　　Its　luxuries　and　ostentations　were；　in　themselves；　perhaps　bad　for　us。　But　the　pursuit　of　them　was　good。　　It　called　forth　thought　and　effort；　sharpened　our　wits；　strengthened　our　brains。　　Primitive　man；　content　with　his　necessities；　would　never　have　produced　genius。　　Art；　literature；　science　would　have　been　stillborn。
  He　hesitated　before　replying；　glancing　at　her　furtively　while　crumbling　his　bread。　　When　he　did；　it　was　in　the　tone　that　one　of　her　younger　disciples　might　have　ventured　into　a　discussion　with　Hypatia。　　But　he　stuck　to　his　guns。
  How　did　she　account　for　David　and　Solomon；　Moses　and　the　Prophets？　They　had　sprung　from　a　shepherd　race。　　Yet　surely　there　was　genius；　literature。　　Greece　owed　nothing　to　progress。　　She　had　preceded　it。　Her　thinkers；　her　poets；　her　scientists　had　draws　their　inspiration　from　nature；　not　civilization。　　Her　art　had　sprung　full　grown　out　of　the　soil。　　We　had　never　surpassed　it。
  〃But　the　Greek　ideal　could　not　have　been　the　right　one；　or　Greece　would　not　so　utterly　have　disappeared；〃　suggested　Mr。　Allway。　〃Unless　you　reject　the　law　of　the　survival　of　the　fittest。〃
  He　had　no　qualms　about　arguing　with　his　uncle。
  〃So　did　Archimedes　disappear；〃　he　answered　with　a　smile。　　〃The　nameless　Roman　soldier　remained。　　That　was　hardly　the　survival　of　the　fittest。〃
  He　thought　it　the　tragedy　of　the　world　that　Rome　had　conquered　Greece；　imposing　her　lower　ideals　upon　the　race。　　Rome　should　have　been　the　servant　of　Greece：　　the　hands　directed　by　the　brain。　　She　would　have　made　roads　and　harbours；　conducted　the　traffic；　reared　the　market　place。　　She　knew　of　the　steam　engine；　employed　it