"Isn't it ghastly--for all of us?" Miriam felt treacherously outspoken. It was a relief to be going away. She knew that this sense of relief made her able to speak. "It's never knowing that's so awful. Perhaps he'll get some more money presently and things'll go on again. Fancy mother having it always, ever since we were babies." "Don't, Mim." "All right. I won't tell you the words he said, how he put it about the difficulty of getting the money for my things." "_Don't_, Mim." Miriam's mind went back to the phrase and her mother's agonised face. She felt utterly desolate in the warm room. "I wish _I'd_ got brains," chirped Harriett, poking the fire with the toe of her boot. "So you have--more than me." "Oh--reely." "You know, I _know_ girls, that things are as absolutely ghastly this time as they can possibly be and that something must be done.... But you know it's perfectly fearful to face that old school when it comes to the point." "Oh, my dear, it'll be lovely," said Eve; "all new and jolly, and think how you will enjoy those lectures, you'll simply love them." "It's all very well to say that. You know you'd feel ill with fright." "It'll be all right--for _you_--once you're there." Miriam stared into the fire and began to murmur shamefacedly. "No more all day bézique.... No more days in the West End.... No more matinées ... no more exhibitions ... no more A.B.C. teas ... no more insane times ... no more anything." "What about holidays? You'll enjoy them all the more." "I shall be staid and governessy." "You mustn't. You must be frivolous." Two deeply-burrowing dimples fastened the clean skin tightly over the bulge of Miriam's smile. "And marry a German professor," she intoned blithely. "Don't--don't for _goodney_ say that before mother, Miriam." "D'you mean she minds me going?" "My _dear_!" Why did Eve use her cross voice?--stupid ... "for goodness' sake," not "for goodney." Silly of Eve to talk slang.... "All right. I won't." "Won't marry a German professor, or won't tell mother, do you mean?... Oo--Crumbs! My old cake in the oven!" Harriett hopped to the door. "Funny Harriett taking to cookery. It doesn't seem a bit like her." "She'll have to do something--so shall I, I s'pose." "It seems awful." "We shall simply have to." "It's awful," said Miriam, shivering. "Poor old girl. I expect you feel horrid because you're tired with all the packing and excitement." "Oh well, anyhow, it's simply ghastly." "You'll feel better to-morrow." "D'you think I shall?" "Yes--you're so strong," said Eve, flushing and examining her nails. "How d'you mean?" "Oh--all sorts of ways." "What way?" "Oh--well--you arranging all this--I mean answering the advertisement and settling it all." "Oh well, you know you backed me up." "Oh yes, but other things...." "What?" "Oh, I was thinking about you having no religion." "Oh."