The first five of these ten precious minutes were spent
in kissing Dorothy Roden, and admiring her hat, and holding her at
arm's length, and saying, with conviction, that she was a dear. Then
Joan asked why Dorothy had ceased writing, and Dorothy proved that it
was Joan who had been in default, and lo! a bridge was thrown across
the years, and they were friends once more.
"And you mean to tell me," said Joan, as they walked up the Korte
Voorhout towards the canal and the Wood, "that you don't take any
interest in the Malgamite scheme?"
"No," answered Dorothy. "And I am weary of the very word."
"But then you always were rather--well, frivolous, weren't you?"
"I did not take lessons as seriously as you, perhaps, if that is what
you mean," admitted Dorothy.
And Joan, who had come across to Holland full of zeal in well-doing,
and as seriously as ever Queen Marguerite sailed to the Holy Land,
walked on in silence. The trees were just breaking into leaf, and the
air was laden with a subtle odour of spring. The Korte Voorhout is, as
many know, a short broad street, spotlessly clean, bordered on either
side by quaint and comfortable houses. The traffic is usually limited
to one carriage going to the Wood, and on the pavement a few leisurely
persons engaged in taking exercise in the sunshine. It was a different
atmosphere to that from which Joan had come, more restful, purer
perhaps, and certainly healthier, possibly more thoughtful; and
charity, above all virtues, to be practiced well must be practiced
without too much reflection.
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