"My sister tells me," said Ralph Rodney, gently dragging the conversation back to its original topic. "My sister tells me that Milly's lungs are absolutely sound." General Brooke snorted and Major Boyle shook his head mournfully. "Can't be, can't be," he murmured; "the family's riddled with it!" "I'm sorry to hear about poor old Peter Routledge," remarked Sir Robert, pouring himself out another whisky. "I'd lost sight of him of late years. Damned hard luck popping off like that, must have been fairly young too; he was one of the best chaps on earth, you know, sound through and through, if he was a bit of a wildster." Over in a dark corner someone stirred. It was Admiral Bourne, whom they had thought asleep; now he spoke for the first time. He sat up and, taking off his glasses, wiped them. "She was such a pretty little girl," he said tremulously. "Such a dear little girl." And he dabbed his eyes with his handkerchief. They pretended not to notice; he was a very old man now and almost childish, with him tears and laughter had grown to be very near the surface. "How goes it with the mice, Admiral?" inquired someone kindly, to change the subject. He smiled through his tears and cheered up immediately. "Capital, capital! Yes, indeed. And I think I've bred a real wonder at last, I've never seen such a colour before, it's not Roan and it's not Mauve and it's not Blue; it's a sort of--a sort of----" He hesitated, and forgot what he was going to say. They handed him an evening paper. "Thanks, thanks," he said gratefully. "Thank you very much indeed," and subsided into his corner again. 2 In spite of gloomy prognostications Milly's health did nothing melodramatic or startling as the months dragged on, though her cough continued and she grew still thinner. At times she was overcome by prolonged fits of weakness, but any change there was came quietly and gradually, so that even Elizabeth was deceived. She watched Joan's anxious face with growing impatience. "Don't let yourself get hipped over Milly," she cautioned. Joan protested. "I'm not a bit hipped, but I'm terribly afraid." Elizabeth flared up. "You really are overdoing it a bit, Joan; it's almost hysterical! Even Doctor Thomas must know his trade well enough to suspect tubercle if there were any." "I know, but I can't believe in him. Surely you think Milly's looking terribly ill?" "I think she looks very fagged, but I'm not prepared to know better than the doctor." They argued for an hour. Elizabeth was exasperated. Why would Joan persist in taking the most gloomy view of everything? "It's a good excuse for your staying on here," she said bitterly. Joan looked at her. "Yes, I mean that," said Elizabeth. "You find Milly's illness a ready-made excuse." "I ought to get angry with you, Elizabeth, but I won't let myself. Do you seriously think that I can leave her? What about Mother?"