When she had left her trunks at the rooms in Regent Street, Sally drove straight to Janet's studio, situated in the environments of Shepherd's Bush.
In the apron of the art-student, her hands unwashed, her hair dishevelled and untidy, she opened the door to Sally's summons.
"Heavens!" she exclaimed. "Why aren't you at Cailsham?"
"I came up this afternoon."
Sally entered the room, crossed to the drawing-board, where the design for a figure of lace was slowly materializing in white paint upon brown paper under Janet's hand. With an apparent concentration of interest she gazed into that. Then Janet closed the door.
"When are you going back?" she asked, climbing slowly to her stool.
"I'm not going back."
Janet grunted, dipped her brush into the porcelain palette and painted in a line that meant nothing. Then she laid down the brush and looked up.
"I've been expecting this." she said. "Why aren't you going back?"
"Mother doesn't want me—I don't want to go."