"Yes--oh, yes!" Why was she so doubtful? Of course they would have lots more, they were going to live together. She realized now how necessary, how vitally necessary it was that they should live together. Their two weeks in London had emphasized that fact, if it needed emphasizing. In the past she had known two Elizabeths, but now she knew a third; there had been Elizabeth the teacher and Elizabeth the friend. But now there was Elizabeth the perfect companion. There was the Elizabeth who knew so much and was able to make things so clear to you, and so interesting. The Elizabeth who thought only of you, of how to please you and make you happy; the Elizabeth who entered in, who liked what you liked, enjoying all sorts of little things, finding fun at the identical moment when you were wanting to laugh; in fact who thought your own thoughts. This was a wonderful person who could descend with grace to your level or unobtrusively drag you up to hers; an altogether darling, humorous and understanding creature. The train slowed down. Joan said: "Oh, not already?" They shared the fly as far as the Rodneys' house, and then Joan drove on alone. Mrs. Ogden opened the front door herself. "She's gone!" were her words of greeting. "Who has? You don't mean Ethel?" Mrs. Ogden sank on to the rim of the elephant pad umbrella stand. "She walked out this morning after the greatest impertinence. Of course I refused to pay her. I'm worn out by all I've been through since you left; I nearly telegraphed for you to come back." "Wait a minute, Mother dear; I must get my trunk in. Yes, please, cabby--upstairs, if you don't mind; the back room." "She kept the kitchen filthy; I've been down there since she left and the sink made me feel quite sick! I've thought for some time she was dishonest and brought men in the evenings, and now I'm sure of it; there's hardly a grain of coffee left and I can't find the pound of bacon I bought only the day before yesterday." "Oh! I do wish we hadn't lost her!" said Joan inconsequently. "Have you been to the registry office?" "No, of course not; what time have I had? You'll have to do that to-morrow." Joan went upstairs and began unstrapping her trunk. She did not attempt to analyse her feelings; they were too confused and she was very tired. She wanted to sit down and gloat over the past two weeks, to recapture some of their fun and freedom and companionship; above all she did not want to think of registry offices. Mrs. Ogden came into her room. "You haven't kissed me yet, darling." Joan longed to say: "You didn't give me a chance, did you?" But something in the small, thin figure that stood rather wistfully before her, as if uncertain of its welcome, made her kiss her mother in silence. "Have you had any tea?" she asked, patting Mrs. Ogden's arm. "No, I felt too tired to get it, but it might do my head good if you could make some really strong tea, darling."