III

I was annoyed, I must confess, at the abrupt way in which Megan had leftus. Perhaps she had suddenly got bored with us.

After all, it wasn’t a very amusing life for a girl. At home she’d got thekids and Elsie Holland.

I heard Joanna returning and hastily moved in case she should makemore rude remarks about sundials.

Owen Griffith called in his car just before lunchtime, and the gardenerwas waiting for him with the necessary garden produce.

Whilst old Adams was stowing it in the car I brought Owen indoors for adrink. He wouldn’t stay to lunch.

When I came in with the sherry I found Joanna had begun doing herstuff.

No signs of animosity now. She was curled up in the corner of the sofaand was positively purring, asking Owen questions about his work, if heliked being a G.P., if he wouldn’t rather have specialized? She thought,doctoring was one of the most fascinating things in the world.

Say what you will of her, Joanna is a lovely, a heaven-born listener. Andafter listening to so many would- be geniuses telling her how they hadbeen unappreciated, listening to Owen Griffith was easy money. By thetime we had got to the third glass of sherry, Griffith was telling her aboutsome obscure reaction or lesion in such scientific terms that nobody couldhave understood a word of it except a fellow medico.

Joanna was looking intelligent and deeply interested.

I felt a moment’s qualm. It was really too bad of Joanna. Griffith was toogood a chap to be played fast and loose with. Women really were devils.

Then I caught a sideways view of Griffith, his long purposeful chin andthe grim set of his lips, and I was not so sure that Joanna was going tohave it her own way after all. And anyway, a man has no business to lethimself be made a fool of by a woman. It’s his own look out if he does.

Then Joanna said:

“Do change your mind and stay to lunch with us, Dr. Griffith,” and Grif-fith flushed a little and said he would, only his sister would be expectinghim back—

“We’ll ring her up and explain,” said Joanna quickly and went out intothe hall and did so.

I thought Griffith looked a little uneasy, and it crossed my mind that hewas probably a little afraid of his sister.

Joanna came back smiling and said that that was all right.

And Owen Griffith stayed to lunch and seemed to enjoy himself. Wetalked about books and plays and world politics, and about music andpainting and modern architecture.

We didn’t talk about Lymstock at all, or about anonymous letters, orMrs. Symmington’s suicide.

We got right away from everything, and I think Owen Griffith washappy. His dark sad face lighted up, and he revealed an interesting mind.

When he had gone I said to Joanna:

“That fellow’s too good for your tricks.”

Joanna said:

“That’s what you say! You men all stick together!”

“Why were you out after his hide, Joanna? Wounded vanity?”

“Perhaps,” said my sister.