"I think I know, in fact I'm sure I do, and yet I can't help her. I want her to go away from here some day, I want her to have a life of her own. Can't you see how it is? She's so much her mother's favourite—they adore each other."

Mrs. Benson did not speak for a little while, then she said: "I don't know Mrs. Ogden very well, but I think she might be a very selfish mother; but then, poor soul, she hasn't had much of a life, has she?"

Then Elizabeth let herself go, she heard her voice growing louder, but could not control it.

"I don't care, she has no right to make it up to herself with Joan. Joan's young and clever, and sensitive and dreadfully worth while. Surely she has a right to something in life beyond Seabourne and Mrs. Ogden? Joan has a right to love whom she likes, and to go where she likes and to work and be independent and happy, and if she can't be happy then she has a right to make her own unhappiness; it's a thousand times better to be unhappy in your own way than to be happy in someone else's. Joan wants something and I don't know what it is, but if it's Mrs. Ogden then it ought not to be, that's all. The child's eating her heart out and it's wrong, wrong, wrong! She dare not be herself because it might not be the self that Mrs. Ogden needs. She wants to go to Cambridge, but will she ever go? Why she's even afraid to be fond of me because Mrs. Ogden is jealous of me." She paused, breathless.

Mrs. Benson looked grave. "My dear," she said very quietly, "I sympathize, and I think I understand; but be careful."

Elizabeth thought: "No, you don't understand; you're a kind, good woman, but you don't understand in the least."

Aloud she said: "I'm afraid I seem violent, but I'm personally interested in Joan's possibilities, she's very clever and lovable."

Mrs. Benson assented. "Why not encourage her to come here more often," she suggested. "She and Violet are about the same age, and Violet's nearly always here in the holidays. Richard and Joan seemed to get on very well last year. Oh, talking of Richard; you know, I suppose, that he insists upon being a doctor?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Well, as long as he's a good doctor I suppose he won't kill anyone!" They both smiled now as they thought of Richard. "His father's furious," Mrs. Benson told her, "but it's no good being furious with Richard; you might as well get angry with an oak tree and slap it."

"Does he work well?"