The little crowd had almost dispersed when they returned, and there was nothing to prevent a quiet and thorough study of the lists.
"It is infamous," said Lucy, "simply infamous! Small credit it is to me to have passed when that is all the examiners know of their work!"
"Nonsense! It's all right. You know I had my weak subject. Come."
"Will you wait here while I send off the telegrams?"
"No, I will come with you."
They passed out of the heat and glare into the dusty little shop, and Mona leaned her elbow wearily on the counter. She had begun to believe it now, but not to realise it in the least. "How horribly I shall be suffering to-morrow!" she thought, with a shiver of dread.
"Weal and woe!" she said, smiling, as she read the telegrams Lucy had scribbled. "Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall be taken and the other left."
"Don't," said Lucy, with a little stamp of her foot. For the moment she was suffering more than Mona.
They walked home in silence to the house in Gower Street.
"Come in to tea? No? Well, good-bye, dear. Take care of yourself. My love and duty to your father and mother. Write to me here."