Joan,--it was Joan, the girl who, once before, at Martin's house, had sent the earth spinning from under her feet and put Martin suddenly behind barbed wire.

What hideous trick was this of Fate's?
Why was this moment the one chosen for the appearance of this girl,--his wife?
This moment,--her moment?
Fight?
With tooth and nail, with all the cunning and ingenuity of a member of the female species to protect what she regarded as her own.
She and her plan against the world,--that was what it was.

Thank God, Martin was not in sight.

She had a free hand.
She had not been seen.

A thick honeysuckle growing up the pillar had hidden her.