“I shall hope for the best,” answered Flossie.  “Poor old soul, she’s had a good time.  Don’t send me a present; and then I needn’t send you one—­when your time comes.  It’s a silly custom.  Besides, I’ve nowhere to put it.  Shall be in a ship for the next six months.  Will let you know when we’re back.”

She gave Joan a hug and a kiss, and was gone.  Joan joined Madge in the kitchen, where she was toasting buns.

“I suppose she’s satisfied herself that he’s brainy,” she laughed.

“Oh, brains aren’t everything,” answered Madge.  “Some of the worst rotters the world has ever been cursed with have been brainy enough—­men and women.  We make too much fuss about brains; just as once upon a time we did about mere brute strength, thinking that was all that was needed to make a man great.  Brain is only muscle translated into civilization.  That’s not going to save us.”

“You’ve been thinking,” Joan accused her.  “What’s put all that into your head?”

Madge laughed.  “Mixing with so many brainy people, perhaps,” she suggested; “and wondering what’s become of their souls.”

“Be good, sweet child.  And let who can be clever,” Joan quoted.  “Would that be your text?”

Madge finished buttering her buns.  “Kant, wasn’t it,” she answered, “who marvelled chiefly at two things:  the starry firmament above him and the moral law within him.  And they’re one and the same, if he’d only thought it out.  It’s rather big to be good.”

They carried their tea into the sitting-room.

“Do you really think she’ll get over it?” asked Madge.  “Or is it one of those things one has to say?”

“I think she could,” answered Joan, “if she would pull herself together.  It’s her lack of will-power that’s the trouble.”

Madge did not reply immediately.  She was watching the rooks settling down for the night in the elm trees just beyond the window.  There seemed to be much need of coming and going, of much cawing.

“I met her pretty often during those months that Helen Lavery was running her round,” she said at length.  “It always seemed to me to have a touch of the heroic, that absurd effort she was making to ‘qualify’ herself, so that she might be of use to him.  I can see her doing something quite big, if she thought it would help him.”

The cawing of the rooks grew fainter.  One by one they folded their wings.

Neither spoke for a while.  Later on, they talked about the coming election.  If the Party got back, Phillips would go to the Board of Trade.  It would afford him a better platform for the introduction of his land scheme.

“What do you gather is the general opinion?” Joan asked.  “That he will succeed?”

“The general opinion seems to be that his star is in the ascendant,” Madge answered with a smile; “that all things are working together for his good.  It’s rather a useful atmosphere to have about one, that.  It breeds friendship and support!”