Nobody was happy, nobody was natural. Even her own private
history, if she looked into it too closely, did not show her any very
optimistic colours. She had not seen Johnny St. Leath now for a fortnight,
nor heard from him, and those precious words under the Arden Gate one
evening were beginning already to appear a dim unsubstantial dream.
However, if there was one quality that Joan Brandon possessed in excess of
all others, it was a simple fidelity to the cause or person in front of
her.
Her doubts came simply from the wonder as to whether she had not concluded
too much from his words and built upon them too fairy-like a castle.
With a gesture she flung all her wonders and troubles out upon the gold-
swept lawn and trained all her attention to the chatter among the girls
around her. She admired Jane D'Arcy very much; she was so "elegant."
Everything that Jane wore became her slim straight body, and her pale
pointed face was always a little languid in expression, as though daily
life were an exhausting affair and not intended for superior persons. She
had been told, from a very early day, that her voice was "low and
musical," so she always spoke in whispers which gave her thoughts an
importance that they might not otherwise have possessed.
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