"Don't cry, Alex. Are you really going? It's much the best idea, of course, and by the time you come back they may have something else to think about."
She giggled a little, self-consciously, and waited, as though to be questioned.
"I might be engaged to be married, or something like that, and then you'd come back to be my bridesmaid, and no one would think of anything unhappy."
Alex made no answer. Her tears had exhausted her and she felt weak and tired.
"How are you going to settle it all?" pursued Barbara tirelessly. "Hadn't you better write to them and see if they'll have you? Supposing Mother Gertrude said you couldn't go there?"
A pang of terror shot through Alex at the thought.
"Oh, no, no! She won't say she couldn't have me."
She went blindly to the carved writing-table with its heavy gilt and cut-glass appointments, and drew a sheet of paper towards her.
Barbara stood watching her curiously. Feeling as though the power of consecutive thought had almost left her, Alex scrawled a few words and addressed them to the Superior.
"We can send it round by hand," said Barbara coolly. "Then you'll know tonight."