"Yes," she said. "I had a proposal from Lawrence. It seems to run in the family, but mine was very impressive. I felt it carried the weight of the whole Bank of England behind it. It sounded very safe and comfortable and rich, I was almost tempted——" She paused.
"And what did you say, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth came a step nearer. "I said I was too busy just now to get married; I said I was too busy thinking of someone I cared for very much and of how they could get free and make a life of their own."
"You said that, Elizabeth?"
"Yes. Does it surprise you? That's what I said—so you see, Joan, you mustn't fail me."
Joan looked at her. She stood there, tall and neat, in the road; the dust on her shoes seemed an impertinence, as though it had no right to blemish the carefully polished leather. Her eyes were full of an inscrutable expression, her lips a little parted as though about to ask a question.
"If it's devotion you want," said Joan gruffly, "then you've got all I've got to give."
There was a little silence, and when Elizabeth spoke it was in her matter-of-fact voice. She said, "I not only want your devotion but I need it, and I want more than that; I want your work, your independence, your success. I want to take them so that I can give them back to you, so that I can look at you and say, 'I did this thing, I found Joan and I gave her the best I had to give, freedom and——'" she paused, "'and happiness.'"
They turned and clasped hands, walking silently home towards Seabourne.