Awnings appeared, straw hats peppered the streets like daisies in long fields, shadows moved, days lengthened, and the call of the country fell on city ears like the thin wistful notes of the pipes of Pan.
Brought up against a black wall Joan left the Roundabout, desisted from joy-riding, and, spending most of her time with her mother, tried secretly and without any outward sign, to regain her equilibrium.

She saw nothing of Alice and the set, now beginning to scatter, in which Alice had placed her.

She was consistently out to Gilbert Palgrave and the other men who had been gathering hotly at her heels.

Her policy of "who cares ?" had received a shock and left her reluctantly and impatiently serious.

She had withdrawn temporarily into a backwater in order to think things over and wait for Martin to reappear.