Joan had a long talk with her sister about the life at the College. They were pretty well fed, it seemed, but of course no luxuries. Oh, yes, Milly usually went to bed early; she felt too dead tired to want to sit up late. She practised a good many hours a day, whenever she could, in fact; but then that was what she was there for, and she loved that part of it. Couldn't she slack a bit? Good Lord, no! Rather not; she wanted to make some money, and that as soon as possible; you didn't get on by scamping your practising. Joan mustn't fuss, it bored Milly to have her fussing like an old hen. The cough was nothing at all, the doctor had said so. How long had it been going on? Oh, about two months, perhaps a little longer; but, good Lord! it was just a cough! She did wish Joan would shut up. Elizabeth was anxious too; she felt an inexplicable apprehension about this cough of Milly's. She was glad when the holidays came to an end and Milly and her cough had removed themselves to London. With her sister's departure, Joan seemed to forget her anxiety. She had fallen into a strangely elated frame of mind and threw off troubles as though they were thistledown. "Mother seems very busy with her religion," she remarked one day. Elizabeth agreed. They fell silent, and then: "Perhaps we can go soon now, Elizabeth; I was thinking that perhaps after Christmas----" Elizabeth bit her lip. Something in her wanted to cry out in triumph, but she choked it down. "The flat's let until March," she said quietly. "Well then, March. Oh! Elizabeth, think of it!" Elizabeth said: "I never think of anything else--I thought you knew that." "But you seem so dull about it, aren't you pleased?" "Yes, but I'm afraid!" "Of what?" "Of something happening to prevent it. Don't let's make plans too long ahead." Joan flushed. "You don't trust me any more," she said, and her voice sounded as though she wanted to cry. "Trust you? Of course I trust you. Joan, I don't think you know how I feel about all this; it's too much, almost. I feel--oh, well, I can't explain, only it's desperately serious to me." "And what do you think it is to me?" demanded Joan passionately. "It's more than serious to me!"