"Yes—oh, yes, very fine."
She would write to her, go to her, anything but this; she would humble herself, implore forgiveness. If only she knew where she was; she would ask Ralph. No, what was the good? Elizabeth would not have her now, she did not want a weak-kneed creature who didn't know her own mind; she liked dependable, strong people like herself.
"Joan!" came a voice.
"Yes, Mother?"
"Bring me my nerve tonic, dear."
"Yes, Mother."
"Oh, and bring me my shawl, I feel cold; you'll find it in my top right-hand drawer."
She obeyed, fetching the shawl, measuring out the tonic in a medicine glass.
"I don't feel it's doing me much good," Mrs. Ogden complained. "I slept very badly again last night."
"You must give it time," said Joan comfortingly. "This is only your third dose."