"She is come to bring healing to the sad, sick world--to right all the old, old wrongs." She patted Joan's hand and spoke gravely.

"That is right, dear.

That is youth's _metier_; to take the banner from our failing hands, bear it still a little onward." Her small gloved hand closed on Joan's with a pressure that made Joan wince.
"And you must not despair," she continued; "because in the end it will seem to you that you have failed.

It is the fallen that win the victories." She released Joan's hand abruptly.

"Come and see me to-morrow morning at my office," she said.