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 t h i r d e d i t i o n

BLAKEMORE • GRIGGS
“ This is something of a best seller and it is easy to understand why. It will
serve the needs of both Level 1 and other students of social policy well

SOCIAL POLICY
[and] it carries off the exploration of specific theoretical issues within
discrete policy areas particularly well.
” SOCIAL POLICY & ADMINISTRATION

SOCIAL POLICY
a n i n t r o d u c t i o n
t h i r d e d i t i o n a n i n t r o d u c t i o n
This third edition of the bestselling Social Policy builds on the strengths of the highly

SOCIAL POLICY
respected first and second editions to offer a broad introduction to current
developments in social policy and welfare. Comprehensive, readable and
thought-provoking, this is the standard introductory book on social policy in the UK.
It provides a framework for exploring key questions such as:
• What are social policies?
• How are social policies created and implemented?
• Why do certain policies exist?
This revised edition has been expanded and thoroughly updated to reflect the latest
developments in the fields of social policy and welfare. It includes:
• A new chapter on criminal justice
• Revised chapters on education, community and social care, and health
• An updated and expanded glossary of key terms and annotated further
reading including websites
Social Policy is essential reading for students beginning or building on their study of

e d i t i o n
social policy or welfare. The book is also suitable as a reference resource for

t h i r d
practitioners and professional policy makers in fields including health, medicine and
nursing, housing, social work and counselling, education, law and criminology.
Ken Blakemore is a senior research fellow in Social Policy at the University of
Wales, Swansea, UK.
Edwin Griggs is a part time senior lecturer at Birmingham University and
Wolverhampton University, UK.

KEN BLAKEMORE
Cover design Kate Prentice
www.openup.co.uk EDWIN GRIGGS
SOCIAL POLICY

Third Edition
SOCIAL POLICY
AN INTRODUCTION
Third Edition

Ken Blakemore and Edwin Griggs

Open University Press

Open University Press
McGraw-Hill Education
McGraw-Hill House
Shoppenhangers Road
Maidenhead
Berkshire
England
SL6 2QL

email: [email protected]
world wide web: www.openup.co.uk

and Two Penn Plaza, New York, NY 10121–2289, USA

First published 2007

Copyright # Ken Blakemore and Edwin Griggs 2007

All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and
review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or
otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher or a licence from the Copyright
Licensing Agency Limited. Details of such licences (for reprographic reproduction) may be
obtained from the Copyright Licensing Agency Ltd of 90 Tottenham Court Road, London, W1T
4LP.

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 10: 0335 218 741

ISBN 13: 978 0335 218 745

Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

CIP data applied for

Typeset by YHT Ltd, London

Printed in Poland by OZ Graf. S.A.
www.polskabook.pl
To the Coventry Lanchester Polytechnic – one of the best of its kind
 Contents

The authors xiii

Preface xv
Acknowledgements xvii

1 THE SUBJECT OF SOCIAL POLICY 1

Social policy: an identity problem? 1
Social policy and other subjects 2
The story of social policy 5
Early roots: social work, sociology and social administration 5
Coming of age: the welfare state and social administration 8
Crisis and change: the development of social policy as a subject 9
Conclusions: the subject today 10
Plan of the book 12
Key terms and concepts 14
Suggestions for further reading 14

2 IDEAS AND CONCEPTS IN SOCIAL POLICY 15

Introduction 15
Equality, equity and justice 18
Equality and politics 18
Justifying policies for equality 20
Egalitarianism 20
Equity 23
Equality of opportunity 24
Need 26
Needs, wants and satisfaction 29
Sen’s theory: ‘commodities’,‘capabilities’ and ‘functionings’ 31
Freedom and rights 32
Citizenship 35
Conclusions 37
Key terms and concepts 38
Suggestions for further reading 39

3 THE DEVELOPMENT OF SOCIAL POLICY IN BRITAIN 40

Introduction 40
Example 1: from workhouse to workfare? 41
viii CONTENTS

Example 2: public health reform 41

Example 3: education, the roles of central and local government and the
concept of the ‘contract state’ 46
The development of a ‘contract state’ in education 47
The development of a welfare state 49
Beveridge: the man and the plan 49
Conclusions: Britain’s welfare history in comparative context 53
Key terms and concepts 56
Suggestions for further reading 57

4 THE CONTESTED BOUNDARIES OF SOCIAL POLICY: THE CASE OF

CRIMINAL JUSTICE 59
Introduction: what is criminal justice policy? 59
Criminal justice, social control and social policy: a ‘penal–welfare state’? 60
Comparing crime and criminal justice 63
Criminal justice policy in the Netherlands 65
Measuring crime 67
The criminal justice process 69
Equality and discrimination 71
The contemporary politics of law and order 72
New Labour and criminal justice 73
An assessment 75
Conclusion 76
Key terms and concepts 77
Suggestions for further reading 77

5 WHO GETS WHAT? SLICING THE WELFARE CAKE 78

Introduction: what are the benefits of the welfare system? 78
Should benefits and services be selective or universal? 80
Gainers and losers: individuals and groups 82
Contributions: taxation 83
Contributions: care 86
Keeping a perspective on the individual 86
How large is the welfare cake? 87
Social security: who benefits? 89
Non-contributory benefits 90
Tax credits 90
Contributory benefits 91
Who benefits? 91
Poverty and social exclusion 95
Poverty and inequality 96
Relative and absolute poverty 98
Social exclusion 102
Conclusions 104
Perception of necessities 107
 CONTENTS ix

Key terms and concepts 108

Suggestions for further reading 108

6 SOCIAL POLICY, POLITICS AND SOCIAL CONTROL 110

Introduction: social control and the rise of welfare 110
Social policy and regulation 113
Too much control – or not enough? 114
Social policy and the political order 115
Social welfare and political control in historical perspective 115
Twentieth-century Britain: social welfare in the political order 116
Britain and other examples 118
Social control and individual freedom 119
Social welfare and coercion 120
Social policies and indirect control: the examples of age and other social
divisions 122
Conclusions: can social policies bring benign control? 127
Key terms and concepts 130
Suggestions for further reading 130

7 WHO MAKES POLICY? THE EXAMPLE OF EDUCATION 132

Introduction: power and democracy 132
Government and state 134
Models of power – understanding how decisions are made 135
The democratic pluralist model 135
The elite control model 137
The political economy model 137
The background: education and Conservative policies of the 1980s
and 1990s 138
The 1988 Education Act 140
The lessons of the 1988 education reforms: how policy was made 141
Implementing the Conservative reforms 144
Centralizing control: Labour and education policy 145
City academies 147
Restructuring secondary education: radical reform or piecemeal change? 149
Policies for the future? 153
Conclusions 154
Key terms and concepts 158
Suggestions for further reading 159

8 WORK AND WELFARE 160

Introduction 160
Work: an object of social and economic policy 161
Does work equal welfare? 162
Employment policy options 164
x CONTENTS

The context: work and unemployment in the UK 165

The story of unemployment 168
Current employment policy 170
The New Deal 171
Other policies – the welfare of people in work 173
Employment relations 173
Tax credits 173
Minimum wage 174
Part-time workers 174
Conclusions – in whose interests is employment policy? 175
Key terms and concepts 178
Suggestions for further reading 178

9 ARE PROFESSIONALS GOOD FOR YOU? THE EXAMPLE OF

HEALTH POLICY AND HEALTH PROFESSIONALS 180
Introduction 180
Health, illness, modern medicine and health policy 181
The health professions: too much power? 183
A crisis of confidence in the medical profession 185
Flaws in service delivery 187
Medical and nursing professions in the development of the NHS 189
The advantages and limitations of the NHS 189
The health professions and health service reform 191
The NHS and the medical profession in a new era of uncertainty 193
Conclusions 195
Key terms and concepts 198
Suggestions for further reading 198

10 UTOPIAS AND IDEALS: HOUSING POLICY AND THE ENVIRONMENT 200

Introduction 200
Housing policy: definitions and significance 202
Housing utopias and ideals 203
From philanthropy and self-help to social engineering 204
The triumph of market ideals: housing policy in the 1980s and 1990s 207
Housing under New Labour – a forgotten dream? 212
Conclusions: housing and the environment in a postmodern society 218
Key terms and concepts 220
Suggestions for further reading 221

11 COMMUNITY AND SOCIAL CARE 222

Introduction 222
The development of community and social care 223
The Victorian legacy: care in institutions 223
The 1950s and 1960s: deinstitutionalization gains momentum 224
The 1980s: ‘community’ and ‘care’ redefined 225
 CONTENTS xi

The community care reforms: implementation and outcomes 228

Outcomes of the community care reforms: the early years 230
Social care and social services after 1997 232
Modernizing social services 233
Social services expenditure 234
Regulation, monitoring and inspection 235
Funding of long-term care 236
The health and social care divide 239
Labour and the future of social care 239
Conclusions 240
Key terms and concepts 242
Suggestions for further reading 243

12 DEVOLUTION AND SOCIAL POLICY 244

Introduction: devolution and its significance 244
What is devolution? 245
What type of devolution does the UK have? 246
Devolution and education policy 249
Devolution – health and social care 254
The end of British social policy? The impact of devolution and
of the EU 258
The significance of the EU 259
The EU and social policy 260
Conclusions 262
Key terms and concepts 263
Suggestions for further reading 263

13 CONCLUSION: THE FUTURE OF SOCIAL POLICY 265

Social policy and rapid social change 265
‘Not so New’ Labour and social policy: a loss of direction? 266
The changing context of social policy: a ‘postmodern’ era? 268
Endnote: a postmodern government and postmodern social policies? 271
Key terms and concepts 274
Suggestions for further reading 275
Glossary 276
Bibliography 299
Index 313
 The Authors

Ken Blakemore is a senior research fellow in social policy in the School of Human
Sciences at Swansea University. He has previously taught in Africa, in the USA (UCLA)
and at universities in Coventry, Warwick and Birmingham, as well as Swansea. He has
researched and written widely in several fields of social policy, including comparative
education, diversity and equal opportunities, and policies on care of older people.

Edwin Griggs has taught social policy and politics at a number of higher education
institutions over the years, including Coventry, Teesside, Leeds and City of London
Polytechnics, Keele University and Coventry University, and continues to teach at uni-
versities in the West Midlands.
Other documents randomly have
different content
the funniest little apartment on Thirty-fourth Street—just a room
with an alcove and a bath and a kitchenette. Nels is going to get
another place to work—one room some place—very business-like and
all that sort of thing and I’ll work at home. But please do hurry back
and have dinner with us sometime. You’ll see! I can cook. But I must
work, too, else Nels will get ever so many leagues ahead of me. And
please have you delivered my message to the Dragon? You did give
him Nels’ message I know for Nels heard from him and that man
with the double name who is so splendidly entertaining you over the
holidays is going to buy the picture. You must get back in time for the
party we’ll put on to celebrate when the check comes. You know I feel
that you made it all happen.”
She chatted on over ten pages of art school gossip that made Ruth
rather homesick, and eager to get back to New York, especially as the
first object of her visit had been accomplished. But had it been
accomplished? The snake was killed and Professor Pendragon was
cured. To her the connection seemed obvious. Professor Pendragon
had been cured because the object of George’s faith had been
destroyed and with it the mind-born malady which, through faith, he
had put upon the man who was his rival. But this did not accomplish
all of Ruth’s desire. There still remained the Prince. Even though
George’s power over Pendragon had been destroyed, might he not
still exercise the same influence over Gloria? And would George
calmly submit to the insult that had been put upon him? Her whole
trust was now in Pendragon. He had shown that he could fight.
Having gone so far he must go further and drive away Prince
Aglipogue. Then every one would be happy—that is, every one except
herself and Terry. She was no longer sure that Terry loved Gloria.
Probably he had loved her because no man could be indifferent to
Gloria, but perhaps he had resigned himself to the unromantic rôle
of friend. He had suspected her of being interested in Pendragon for
herself. That might mean anything—his thought might have been
fathered by the hope that some one would remove Pendragon, one of
his own rivals; or perhaps she had betrayed her love for him and he
wanted to turn her attention toward another object, or perhaps—but
men were such curious creatures and who could tell? At least he did
not love her which was all that really mattered now. Nels and
Dorothy could go working and playing together through the future,
but she must content herself to be wedded for life to her art; and
such art—newspaper cartoons!
While she thought she was dressing, for she was really very curious
to see Gloria and hear what she had to say. The door of Gloria’s room
was half open and Ruth knocked and went inside at the same
moment. Gloria was fully dressed and seemed to be in the midst of
packing. There were dark circles under her eyes as if she had not
slept.
“Ruth, I want you to do something for me,” was her abrupt
greeting.
Ruth waited for an explanation.
“Will you?”
“Of course, Gloria,—anything.”
“I believe you would at that—you’re an awfully nice child;
sometimes I suspect that you’re older than I am; but this is
something rather nasty, so don’t be too sure that you’ll want to do it.
I want you to tell Aggie that I can’t marry him—that I must have been
insane when I said I would, that the whole thing is utterly impossible
—that it would please me if he would go back to New York at once. I
don’t want to see him any more.”
Ruth struggled to conceal her joy at this announcement.
“Don’t you think, Gloria, that it would be more effective if you told
him yourself?”
“No; and besides I don’t want to see the brute—he—he— Oh, I
can’t bear to look at him—to remember everything—”
“Suppose he doesn’t believe me?”
“He will.”
“You could write a note.”
“Then he wouldn’t believe; a note would be too gentle. He’d want
to see me and talk, but if you tell him he’ll know that it’s final or I
wouldn’t have chosen to tell him through a third person. Will you do
it?”
“Yes.”
“I was going to leave myself,” explained Gloria with a wave of her
hand toward the evidences of packing. “But I can’t. George has
disappeared—absolutely disappeared—”
“When—where?”
“I said disappeared; that doesn’t mean he left a forwarding
address. He slipped off into the nowhere, sometime between
midnight and morning and of course I can’t move until we hear from
him.”
“You can, too!” Ruth was intense in her excitement. “You can—
you’ve given up the Prince; the next thing is to give up George. He’s
been the cause of all your troubles. I know you don’t believe it, but he
has—he’s hypnotized you—and if he’s disappeared you ought to be
glad of it.”
Gloria looked at her curiously from between half-closed lids.
“Why do you think I won’t believe you? I don’t believe or
disbelieve, I know that I have been hypnotized, or mad, or ill—
something. I woke up this morning quite new— Perhaps it’s religion
—” She laughed with something of her old careless mirth. “Anyway
I’m quite sane now, and I do want to get back to New York so that I
can begin rehearsals in Terry’s new play. I feel like working hard, like
beginning all over again— I feel—so—so free, that’s the word, as if I
had been in prison—a prison with mirror walls, every one of which
reflected a distorted vision of myself. That’s all I could see—myself,
always myself and always wrong.”
“May I come in?”
It was Angela at the still half-open door.
“Why, you’re not leaving?”
“No; I only thought I was. Changed my mind again.”
“And you’re quite well. The poor, dear Prince has been quite
frantic. He’s so anxious to see you for himself before he will be
assured that you’re really all right, after the shock last night. He’s
waiting for you now. The other men have gone off on a hike through
the snow. John has such a passion for exercise—afraid of getting
stout, though he won’t admit it. I told the Prince that I would try and
send you down to him.”
“I can’t go now. Ruth will go down and talk to him.”
“Ruth? But he wants you.”
 A sign from Gloria counselled Ruth to go now before the
discussion, and she slipped out unnoticed by Angela whose blue eyes
were fixed on Gloria, awaiting explanations.
Prince Aglipogue was not difficult to find. She could hear his heavy
pacing before she had reached the bottom of the stairs. He stopped
abruptly when he saw her approaching, waving his cigarette
frantically with one hand while he twisted his moustache with the
other.
“Gloria, Miss Mayfield, she is well; you have news from her? She is
coming down?”
“Miss Mayfield is well, but she is not coming down just now. She
wants to be alone, but she sent me—”
It was impossible to tell him. Much as she hated the man she did
not quite have the courage to deliver Gloria’s message without
preliminaries.
“Yes? Yes?—speak, tell me; she is ill, is it not?”
There was a nervous apprehension in his voice and manner that
made Ruth suspect that the news would not be altogether
unexpected.
“No; she is not ill. As I said she is quite well, but she asked me to
say—to tell you—it’s awfully hard to say it, but she asked me to tell
you that she cannot marry you and that it would be very tactful if you
would go back to New York at once without trying to see her.”
It was blunderingly done, but she could think of no other way to
tell it. Unwelcome truths are only made more ugly by any effort to
soften their harshness.
His cigarette dropped unnoticed upon the rug and his jaw dropped
in a stupid way that made him look like a great pig. One part of
Ruth’s brain was really sorry for him, for he had doubtless been fond
of Gloria in his own way; the other half of her brain wanted to laugh,
but she only stood with bent head, as if, having struck him she was
waiting for his retaliation. It came with a rush as soon as he had
assimilated the full meaning of her words:
“I do not believe—it is a plot—she would not send a message such
as that to me—it is the work of that Riordan— He is jealous—. I will
sue her for breach of promise—one can do that, is it not?”
 “Women sometimes sue men for breach of promise,” said Ruth,
who was quite calm now, “but men seldom sue women; besides, you
can’t sue Gloria, because she has no money.”
“No money?” He laughed and lit another cigarette to give point to
his carelessness and unbelief.
“You say she has no money? With a house on Gramercy Park, she
is poor?”
Behind his words and his nonchalant air Ruth caught the
uneasiness in his small eyes and knew that she had struck the right
note.
“It is true that she has a house on Gramercy Square, but it takes
her entire income to pay the taxes. She got the house from her
second husband; the third was more careful. He only gave her a
small income, which, of course, she loses when she remarries.”
For a moment he stared at her incredulous, but there was nothing
but honesty in her face.
“It is the truth, you are speaking? Come, let us sit and talk—here a
cigarette? No? You do not smoke? I had forgotten. We have not been
such friends as I might have desired. Now explain—Miss Mayfield
wishes to break her engagement with me?”
“She has broken it,” said Ruth tersely.
“It is, you can understand, a shock of the greatest—I loved—but no
matter—tell me again of the affairs financial of Miss Mayfield. As a
friend only—I am resigned—as a friend only I am interested.”
She looked at him, his heavy body, his fat face, his oily brown eyes,
and was tempted to tell him the truth of what she thought. He laid
one fat hand on hers with a familiar gesture and involuntarily she
drew back as if something unclean had touched her. He saw but
pretended not to see. He had an object to achieve and could not
afford to be sensitive. She understood and thought it all out before
she spoke. If she followed her impulse he would cause trouble, or
annoyance to Gloria at the least. If she told him the truth he would
believe her and would go away without further urging. Evidently he
had thought that Gloria had money, and Gloria, to whom money
meant nothing, had never thought to tell him anything of her affairs.
It was a repulsive task but Ruth decided to give him the information
he wanted.
 “You must understand,” she said, “that Gloria is merely a
professional woman, an actress, not an heiress. She has no money
except what she earns. One of her husbands gave her the house on
Gramercy Park. A year later she married again and when she was
divorced from her last husband he settled on her a small income—
hardly sufficient to keep up the house when she is not working. If she
marries again she loses even that.”
She rose to leave him, having finished with her mission, but he
caught her hand.
“You are speaking the truth, Miss Ruth?”
She drew away her hand without answering.
“But you? Perhaps you have been helping her?”
“I have even less than Gloria.”
His amazing lack of finesse—his appalling vulgarity stunned her
into making a reply.
“There is a train in the morning—”
“There is one this afternoon that you can catch if you will hurry. I
advise you to take it.”
“Thank you, I will—you have saved me a great deal of annoyance. I
am grateful—if—”
But Ruth did not wait for the end of his remarks. She could not
bear to look at him for another second. He was even worse than she
had supposed. Evidently he had not cared for Gloria at all, and she
had always conceded to him that much—that Gloria had touched
some one small bit of fineness in his sordid nature.
She dared not return to Gloria just then, for she knew that Gloria
in her usual frank manner had doubtless told Angela of her changed
plans; even now Angela might be protesting with her and urging her
not to dispose of a real title so carelessly. Even without the title
Angela would not approve of the broken engagement, for it had been
announced in her house; therefore, she had, in a way, been sponsor
for it, and would want to see it go through to a successful conclusion.
She made her way to the enclosed veranda where she had kept her
rendezvous with Pendragon on the afternoon of her arrival. It was
quite deserted now, but far out on the crest of one of the near hills
she saw a moving, black splotch against the snow that as she watched
gradually resolved itself into three figures—John Peyton-Russell,
Terry and Professor Pendragon. It gave her a strange thrill to see
them thus—Pendragon striding along with the rest. Surely this was a
miracle—a Christmas miracle, and she remembered a sentence in an
old book of witchcraft that she had once read:
“Verily there be magic both black and white, but of these two, the
white magic prevaileth ever over the black.”
 CHAPTER XVIII

R uth did not see Gloria until just before luncheon.

“I told him, and he’s going,” she said.
“Did he make much of a row?”
“Not after I explained that you hadn’t any money.”
“Let’s not talk about him any more—only has he gone yet?”
“Yes; he wouldn’t even wait until train time. Said he could get
luncheon in the village and started out as soon as he could pack. I’m
so happy about it—now you can marry Professor Pendragon again.”
She realized at once that she shouldn’t have said it, but she had left
so much unsaid during the last few weeks and now with both George
and Prince Aglipogue gone she felt that the seal had been removed
from her lips. She felt too, in a curious way, that Gloria though so
many years older, was in a way her special charge—that she was
entering a new life and must be guided.
Gloria looked at her with startled eyes.
“What nonsense! You’re too romantic, Ruth!”
“But, Gloria, you do love him; you can’t deny it. Didn’t you tell me
once that he is the only one you’ve ever really loved?”
“It takes two to make a marriage, Ruth.”
“But he loves you too.”
“What makes you think that?”
“He told me so.”
“Even so, and even if I would marry again, you must realize that
men very rarely marry the women they love. That’s why we
separated, I think. We married for love and that is always disastrous.
I should never have married at all. Tomorrow we’ll go back to town
and Percy and I will each go our separate ways and forget the
horrible nightmare of this place. It was just chance that we met—a
weird freak of coincidence. He didn’t want it; neither did I.”
There was nothing that Ruth could answer and presently Gloria
went on:
“No woman was meant to have both a career and a husband; lots
of them try it—most women in fact, but usually they come to grief. It
isn’t written in the stars that one woman should have both loves, art
and a husband.”
Ruth thought of Nels and Dorothy. Would they come to grief she
wondered. As for herself she didn’t have to choose—love didn’t come
and art had turned its back on her. She wondered if it was written in
the stars that she should have neither art nor love. Then she
remembered Pendragon’s quotation, “The stars incline, but do not
compel.” So many things had happened here perhaps another
miracle would be performed. She wondered why Gloria said nothing
about Pendragon’s sudden recovery.
It was a relief not to see Prince Aglipogue at the luncheon table.
The dinner guests of the night before had all returned to their own
homes. Aglipogue was gone, and Ruth wondered if Angela would be
troubled, because, for once, there was an uneven number of people at
the table. She did look a bit troubled, though she was trying hard to
conceal it. An engagement announced and broken within twenty-
four hours was rather trying. Still she was smiling:
“We’ve got news of your servant, Gloria dear,—rather horrid news.
It’s quite a shock—a bad way to end a pleasant Christmas party, even
though he was only a servant, and not a very good one.” She paused,
but no one came to her rescue with questions or information and she
went on:
“They found him in the snow—he must have tried to walk to the
station and got lost—he was dead—frozen—and he had the—that
horrible beast with him—the dead snake wound round his body.”
Her voice broke hysterically and she shivered with horror.
“They didn’t bring him here—thank God—but took him to an
undertaker’s in the village. If he has any relatives that you could wire
—”
 “None that I know of—they wouldn’t be in America anyway,” said
Gloria, quite calmly, though her face was pale.
“Then Terry said he’d arrange things, you know—one place is as
good as another. I’m glad you take it so quietly—it’s an awful
ending.”
“He must have been furious because Pendragon shot the snake,”
said Terry.
“Still, if the excitement of killing a snake could cure Pen, Miss
Mayfield ought to be willing to sacrifice her servant,” said John
Peyton-Russell.
“It really was remarkable—though I have heard of similar
instances—of paralytics leaving their beds during the excitement of a
fire, and that sort of thing— I trust there will be no relapse.”
Miss Gilchrist’s tone left no doubt in the minds of her hearers that
she was prepared for the worst. Indeed, her eyes were constantly
fastened on Professor Pendragon as if she expected him to fall down
at any minute.
“There will be none, thank you,” said Pendragon.
Ruth and Terry exchanged glances. Ruth’s eyes asked Terry, “Do
you believe me now?” and Terry’s answered, “I don’t know— I don’t
understand it at all.”
“Of course we’re all very happy over Professor Pendragon’s
recovery,” said Gloria in her most conventional voice, “and of course
I don’t really feel any loss about George, though I am sorry he died
that way.”
“It is tragic, but now he’s really gone, Gloria,” said Terry. “I’m
awfully glad to be rid of him. He was the most disagreeable servant I
ever met, if one can be said to meet servants. I don’t think George
ever really accepted me. He used to snub me most horribly and I
don’t like being snubbed.”
“That reminds me that you haven’t any servant at all, Gloria, so
you really must stay here a few days longer. Perhaps I can find some
for you—she really can’t go back now, can she, John?”
“Really, Angela, that’s unfair; of course I want Miss Mayfield to
stay—we planned to have everybody over the New Year. Perhaps
Professor Pendragon can persuade her.”
 “I have had little luck in persuading women to do anything—if
Prince Aglipogue had not left us so suddenly he might have been
more successful.”
There was a little embarrassed silence around the table after
Pendragon had spoken, then Angela began talking of some irrelevant
subject and the conversation went on, but always Ruth observed that
neither Gloria nor Pendragon ever spoke directly to each other,
though the omission was so cleverly disguised that no one at the
table observed it except Terry and Ruth who always seemed to see
everything together. Ruth had been so busy with Gloria and her
affairs that she had talked very little to Terry and never alone; but
they conversed nevertheless, constantly reading each other’s eyes as
clearly as they would a printed page. The same things seemed to
amuse them both and except in the realm of mystery which Ruth’s
childhood had built about her, they understood each other perfectly.
She knew now that he wanted to talk to her, but she pretended not to
see, for having begun her task of managing the happiness of Gloria,
she was determined to go on, and the person she wanted to see alone
was Professor Pendragon.
Angela who always advertised her house as “one of those places
where you can do exactly what you please,” and therefore never on
any occasion let any one do as they pleased if she could possibly
prevent it by a continuous program of “amusement” and
“entertainment,” was trying to interest them in a plan to go skating
that evening by moonlight on a little lake that lay halfway between
Fir Tree Farm and the village. Some one had reported that the ice
was clear of snow and what was the good of being in the country in
winter time if one didn’t go in for winter sport?
Her plans fell on rather unenthusiastic ears. The men, having
enjoyed a long hike in the morning, were not eager for more exercise;
Gloria wanted to spend the afternoon preparing to leave the next
morning; Ruth was not interested in anything that did not seem to
offer any furtherance of her plans for Gloria; and Miss Gilchrist
didn’t skate.
The very atmosphere seemed to say that the party was finished;
that these people had, for the time being, said all they had to say to
each other and for the time, and wanted to be gone along their
several roads. It is a wise hostess who recognizes this situation and
apparently Angela did recognize it, for she finally stopped urging her
scheme and when Gloria asked Ruth to help her pack—Gloria always
went on a week-end equipped as for transcontinental travel—Angela
made no effort to detain them or to go with them.
Gloria’s moment of confidences had passed. She talked now, but of
Terry’s play. She had told him of her changed decision and he
seemed very happy about it.
“Perhaps you’ll have a chance to make sketches of us,” she said to
Ruth, awakening again Ruth’s interest in the work to which she also
was returning.
“We’ll find two women servants some place and go on as before,
Ruth. Except that I’m not going to see quite so many people—only
people I really like after this. You know I really love the old house—as
near home as anything I’ll ever have. Wish we could get Amy back.”
“We can,” said Ruth. “Amy and I had an agreement when she left
that she would come back if you ever got rid of George. I have her
address.”
“Really, Ruth!” said Gloria, looking at her with genuine
admiration, “You are the most amazing young person I’ve ever met.
You ought to write a book on the care and training of aunts. It would
be a great success.”
Of this Ruth was not so sure. They were to leave on the morning
train and while she had accomplished half her purpose she had not
wholly succeeded. Gloria and Pendragon had met and now they were
going to part more widely separated than ever before, because their
opportunity had come and for some stupid reason they were both
letting it go without reaching out a hand or saying one word to make
it their own. And Gloria wasn’t happy—she was just normal at last,
and a normal Gloria was rather a pitiful thing. She was like stale
champagne—all the sparkle gone out of her. It seemed to Ruth that
she could not live through another meal with Gloria and Pendragon
talking across and around each other—Pendragon with his grave,
quiet face in which the lines of pain seemed to be set forever—Gloria,
changed and quiet, determined to work and succeed again, not for
the joy of her work, but because it seemed the right thing to do. Yet
she did live through another dinner, a most unhappy meal at which
John and Angela sat trying to talk, realizing that something more
than they could quite understand had gone wrong and not knowing
exactly what to do about it. Terry and Miss Gilchrist relieved the
tension somewhat, Terry consciously, Miss Gilchrist unconsciously,
because no one else seemed able to talk, drew her out and once
started on modern child training, there was no reason for any one
else making any effort. She ran on endlessly with no more
encouragement than an occasional, “Oh quite, Really, Yes indeed, or
How interesting!” from Terry or Pendragon.
What hurt more than anything was that Terry no longer signalled
Ruth with his eyes. There was no longer any interest or invitation in
them. If he had had anything to say to her he had forgotten it or lost
interest, for now he seemed to avoid exchange of words or glances
with her as much as Gloria and Pendragon avoided each other.
There was a feeble attempt on the part of Angela to start a
conversation with some semblance of animation over the coffee cups
in the library afterward, but finally even she surrendered as one by
one they made excuses of weariness, the early train or no excuse at
all and drifted away.
Ruth watched for Pendragon’s going and followed him. He made
his way to the enclosed veranda. She stood a moment looking
through the glass door, watching him as he paced up and down,
smoking a pipe. What she was going to do required courage; she
might only meet with the cold rebuff that is due to meddlesome
persons, but Gloria’s happiness was at stake and she could only fail,
so she walked timidly out to him.
She waited patiently until he turned and faced her. She thought
she saw a look of disappointment cross his face when he saw who
had interrupted his solitude. That look, fancied or real, encouraged
her to go on.
“I wanted to thank you for doing what you did—for not giving up,
and to tell you how happy I am that you’re well again,” she began.
“Yes—I am well again—I walk and eat and sleep and wake again—I
am alive.”
“And I wanted to ask you if you’re going to stop now— You’ve
saved Gloria from George and from the Prince—are you going to let
her go away now that you have accomplished so much?”
 “My dear child, I can’t kidnap Gloria—she’s not the sort of woman
one kidnaps—not even the sort one woos and wins. She is the other
sort—the only sort worth while I think—the princess who calls her
own swayamvara, and makes her own choice.”
“But she did choose.”
“She has chosen too often.”
“Do you mean that even if Gloria still loved you you would not
marry her just because she has—because she has—”
All her old ideas and training rose up and kept her from finishing
the sentence “because she has had two other husbands.”
“If Gloria had married one hundred men I would still want her—
don’t you understand that?” He spoke almost fiercely. “But you don’t
understand—you’re too young; it isn’t that; but Gloria doesn’t love
me. If she did she would tell me so. She knows that I love her and she
has shown very plainly that she doesn’t want my love. I appreciate
your kindness,” he went on in a calmer tone, “but don’t trouble any
more—what is written is written and can’t be changed no matter how
one tries.”
“If I give you my word of honour that Gloria does love you, what
then? She told me so—she does know that you love her, but she
thinks you don’t—she thinks the husbands make a difference. She
doesn’t believe that a man could understand that they were just—just
incidents.”
Neither laughed at the idea of this twenty-year old girl speaking of
two husbands as incidents, though later Ruth remembered it herself,
and thought it rather funny.
He did not answer,—he was standing quite rigidly, staring at the
door, and, turning, Ruth saw Gloria approaching them:
“I’m sorry; I thought you were alone, Ruth,” she said and hesitated
as if she would have gone back.
“I’ve just remembered,” said Pendragon, “that the small star Eros
is supposed to be visible again about this time, but we have no
telescope. Ruth has not found it, though she has young eyes—
Perhaps you and I, together, Gloria—if we looked very closely—”
Under the clear starlight she saw them in each other’s arms. There
was one very bright star, that seemed to hang lower in the sky than
winter stars are wont to hang. Surely it was the star of love, though
doubtless no astronomer had ever named it so. She did not know
exactly where she was going when she left them there, but she was
very happy. And then halfway down the stairs she sat down because
her happiness was overflowing from her eyes in tears and she
couldn’t see, and suddenly she felt very tired. It was there that Terry,
ascending, found her.
“I say—what’s wrong? You’re crying. I saw you with Pendragon—
has he done anything to hurt you? I’ll—”
“No-it’s not that—I’m crying because I’m so happy—”
“Oh!”
He looked at her half-disappointed, half-relieved and wholly
bewildered.
“It’s Gloria and Pendragon—they’ve made up.” She reverted to the
vernacular of childhood. “I’m so happy because they’re happy.”
“But I thought—I thought you cared for Pendragon,” stumbled
Terry.
“That’s funny—what made you think that? I do like him but mostly
for Gloria’s sake.”
“Look here,” said Terry. “If you don’t love Pendragon who do you
love?”
She was smiling through her tears now.
“Is it absolutely necessary that I should love some one? You know I
always thought that you loved Gloria. If you don’t love Gloria, whom
do you love?”
For a moment he looked down into her upturned face, struggling
against the provocation of her lips.
“I love the most charming, youngest, most mature, most unselfish,
most winsome—oh, there aren’t adjectives enough. Who do you
love?”
“The nicest—the very nicest and cleverest man in the world,” she
answered demurely.
“Nicest—I’m not quite sure that I like that adjective applied to a
man.”
 “I can’t help it—we can’t all have playwright’s vocabularies, you
know. I could draw him better.”
He bent over very near to her while her clever fingers made rapid
strokes. When it was finished she looked up at him with shy daring in
her eyes.
“Is my nose really like that?” he asked.
“How did you guess who it was meant for?” she teased, and turned
her head quickly, because she was not quite sure even now that she
was ready for that wonderful first kiss.
“I’ve always wanted to kiss you just below that little curl anyway,”
whispered Terry. “And now your lips, please.”
 TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in
spelling.
2. Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain
spellings as printed.
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