Joan bought the trimming just before the shop closed, and this done, they settled down to their high tea. Joan cleared the table wearily, answered two advertisements of general servants, and finally took her book to the lamp. It was a new book that Richard had just sent her. Richard did not yet suspect what she had done; he probably thought she was busily making plans for her departure; how furious he would be when he knew. But Richard didn't count; he could think what he liked, for all she cared. She could not read, the book seemed beyond her comprehension, or was it all nonsense? Mrs. Ogden's voice broke the silence: "Joan, it's ten o'clock!" "Is it, dear?" "Yes, shall we go to bed?" "You go, I'll come presently." "Well, don't stay up too late; it makes me nervous, I can't sleep properly till I know you're in bed." "I shan't wake you coming upstairs." "I never go to sleep at all until I hear your door close. Have you written about those servants?" "Yes, I'm going out now to post the letters." "Then I'll wait up until you get back, darling." "No, please not, Mother; I have a key." "But it makes me nervous when I know you're out. Run along, dear; I shall wait for you." "Very well," said Joan, "I shan't be long." 2 Mrs. Benson called and talked about Richard, and she looked at Joan as she spoke. She would have liked her Richard to have this girl, if, as she had begun to suspect, he had set his heart on her. "You and Richard have so much in common, Joan; he's always writing to me about you." Mrs. Ogden said nothing. "When are you going to Cambridge?" Mrs. Benson continued hurriedly, bridging an awkward pause. Joan looked at her mother, but she was still silent. "Aren't you going?" Mrs. Benson persisted. Joan hesitated. "Well, you see, it's rather difficult just now----" "She doesn't want to leave me," said Mrs. Ogden with a little smile. "She thinks I'm such a helpless creature!" "But, surely----" Mrs. Benson began, and then stopped. The atmosphere of this house was beginning to depress her, and in a sudden flash she realized the cause of her depression. There was something shabby about everything here, both physical and mental. Inanimate things, and people, were letting themselves go, sliding; Mrs. Ogden was sliding very fast--and Joan? She let her eyes dwell on the girl attentively. No, Joan had only begun to slip a little as yet, but there were signs; her mouth drooped too much at the corners, her lips were too pale and her strong hands fidgeted restlessly, but otherwise she was intact so far, and how spruce she looked! Mrs. Benson envied this talent for tidiness, which had never been hers. Yes, on the whole, Joan's clothes suited her, it would be difficult to conceive of her dressed otherwise; still, the short hair was rather exaggerated. She wondered if Richard would make her let it grow when they were married, for, of course, she would marry him in the end.