“I must be deaf.  The only thing I have heard shrieking to me on every side has been Mrs. Bell—­for the week’s rent.”

“Read the papers.  Read the advertisement columns.  I’m sure you will find something sooner or later.  Don’t get into a groove.  Be an adventurer.  Snatch at the next chance, whatever it is.”

Ashe nodded.

“Continue,” he said.  “Proceed.  You are stimulating me.”

“But why should you want a girl like me to stimulate you?  Surely London is enough to do it without my help?  You can always find something new, surely?  Listen, Mr. Marson.  I was thrown on my own resources about five years ago—­never mind how.  Since then I have worked in a shop, done typewriting, been on the stage, had a position as governess, been a lady’s maid—­”

“A what!  A lady’s maid?”

“Why not?  It was all experience; and I can assure you I would much rather be a lady’s maid than a governess.”

“I think I know what you mean.  I was a private tutor once.  I suppose a governess is the female equivalent.  I have often wondered what General Sherman would have said about private tutoring if he expressed himself so breezily about mere war.  Was it fun being a lady’s maid?”

“It was pretty good fun; and it gave me an opportunity of studying the aristocracy in its native haunts, which has made me the Gossip’s established authority on dukes and earls.”

Ashe drew a deep breath—­not a scientific deep breath, but one of admiration.

“You are perfectly splendid!”

“Splendid?”

“I mean, you have such pluck.”

“Oh, well; I keep on trying.  I’m twenty-three and I haven’t achieved anything much yet; but I certainly don’t feel like sitting back and calling myself a failure.”

Ashe made a grimace.

“All right,” he said.  “I’ve got it.”

“I meant you to,” said Joan placidly.  “I hope I haven’t bored you with my autobiography, Mr. Marson.  I’m not setting myself up as a shining example; but I do like action and hate stagnation.”

“You are absolutely wonderful!” said Ashe.  “You are a human correspondence course in efficiency, one of the ones you see advertised in the back pages of the magazines, beginning, ’Young man, are you earning enough?’ with a picture showing the dead beat gazing wistfully at the boss’ chair.  You would galvanize a jellyfish.”

“If I have really stimulated you-----”

“I think that was another slam,” said Ashe pensively.  “Well, I deserve it.  Yes, you have stimulated me.  I feel like a new man.  It’s queer that you should have come to me right on top of everything else.  I don’t remember when I have felt so restless and discontented as this morning.”

“It’s the Spring.”

“I suppose it is.  I feel like doing something big and adventurous.”

“Well, do it then.  You have a Morning Post on the table.  Have you read it yet?”