And upon that conviction followed a definite withdrawal of her tenderest self from Louis. If he would not have love then let it be war. It was curious how her instinctive procedure tallied outwardly with his unwelcome advice. She set about the separate, defiant enrichment of her own life.

And this was where Linnet, among other things, came in.

For in that separate, defiant enrichment of hers to which Louis had driven her, Joanna grasped at any emotional activity that offered.

She had known that Linnet had a lot of friends whom he never brought home, though it was with them he spent his spare time and all his holidays. She had known this, but it had not concerned her. Now, as she hardened self-defensively towards Louis, her shoot of tenderness for Linnet was enlarged. For the first time she really listened, encouraging his confidence, and in so doing became in some measure involved. It was clear that her brother and she and Louis all suffered from the same manie de la grandeur. The form only was different with Linnet.

All his friends were newly-rich. The girls were solidly material in their worldliness and inclined to be fast. The young men drank champagne with their luncheon at the “North British,” made a point of being seen about with the musical comedy star of the moment from London, and had always some “gemble” or other on hand at the Stock Exchange. They lived in suburban villas and had other villas at the coast. They kept motors and racing yachts. To Joanna their lives appeared ugly and on the whole vapid; but to her new powers of observation nothing human came amiss. In some curious way too the mere fact of their wealth served her with Louis. Never meeting them, he learned of their doings only through Joanna’s talk and letters, and he was childishly impressed and perturbed by the growing incident of her life apart from himself.