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Sight of the women gave Joan's curiosity a blunt check. She felt queer. She had not seen women like these, and their dancing, their actions, their looks, were beyond her understanding. Nevertheless, they shocked her, disgusted her, sickened her.
God will send more and more of His Christ babies; till at last there will be thousands and thousands of them everywhere; and their love will change the world!" Her bright eyes had caught sight of the ring upon Joan's hand. She touched it with her little fragile fingers. "You will let me make one for you, dearie, won't you?" she said. "I feel sure it will be a little Christ baby."
"Because he loves you so, and because he has hope in the future, because in spite of everything he still hopes that he might win your heart, and I know that he never can." "How do you know that?" "Because I I think you have already given your heart away." And now Joan's eyes flamed, the anger came back. "By what right do you say that? How dared you say that?" "It is only what I believed.
He had hurried to Joan's side the moment that he left the ship which bore him from the shores of France, and the marriage had been celebrated almost at once, there being no reason for farther delay, and Sir Hugh being eager to be at the Court to receive the triumphant young Prince when he should return to England with his kingly captive.
I will do my duty in that, then resign and come over to you, if I can." "If you can? You mean that they may fire on you?" "I can't tell what they may do. But I must deal fair." Joan's face was grave. "Very well, I will wait for you here." "They might hit you." "But no. They can't hit a wall. Go on, my dear."
"You're not married, dear," she continued, glancing at Joan's ungloved hand, "but people must have a deal of patience when they have to live with us for twenty-four hours a day. You see, little things we do and say without thinking, and little ways we have that we do not notice ourselves, may all the time be irritating to other people." "What about the other people irritating us?" suggested Joan.
Again and again Joan's young voice reached her ears, lulling the baby to sleep with the old, familiar words of the Christmas Hymn Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled. But there was no peace for her. She paced restlessly up and down her darkened room, repeating to herself hundreds of times, "God and sinners reconciled!"
Everything was of interest, and she seemed to gather the flowers of life not so much for her own enjoyment as for the glory of shedding them on others. That is what disarmed people this lavishness of the girl. She gave spice to life, and that has its value. If Nancy ever knew the natural desire to shine in her own light, not Joan's, she smilingly hid it not even Doris suspected it.
It hurt Joan to look at Kells now, yet he seemed wonderful to behold. She felt as guilty as if she had really been false to him. Her heart labored high in her breast. This was the climax the moment of catastrophe. Another word and Jim Cleve would be facing Kells. The blood pressure in Joan's throat almost strangled her. "At the back of this cabin!... At her window?" "Yes."
There were changes in Joan's face since she saw it last not changes which might have been attributed to the possession of Joe Noy, but an alteration of expression betokening thought, a look of increased age, of experiences not wholly happy in their nature. And Joan had also marked the changes in Mary. These indications were clear enough and filled her with sorrow.
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