"But, surely——" Mrs. Benson began, and then stopped.
The atmosphere of this house was beginning to depress her, and in a sudden flash she realized the cause of her depression. There was something shabby about everything here, both physical and mental. Inanimate things, and people, were letting themselves go, sliding; Mrs. Ogden was sliding very fast—and Joan? She let her eyes dwell on the girl attentively. No, Joan had only begun to slip a little as yet, but there were signs; her mouth drooped too much at the corners, her lips were too pale and her strong hands fidgeted restlessly, but otherwise she was intact so far, and how spruce she looked! Mrs. Benson envied this talent for tidiness, which had never been hers. Yes, on the whole, Joan's clothes suited her, it would be difficult to conceive of her dressed otherwise; still, the short hair was rather exaggerated. She wondered if Richard would make her let it grow when they were married, for, of course, she would marry him in the end.
"So Elizabeth has gone to London," she said after a silence, feeling that she had made a bad slip the moment the words were out.
"Yes, she went more than a week ago," Joan replied.
Mrs. Ogden looked up with interest. "But surely not for long? How queer of you not to have told me, dear."
"I thought I had," said Joan untruthfully.
"I heard from her this morning," Mrs. Benson plunged on, feeling that she might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb. "She's got a very good post as librarian to some society."
Then Elizabeth was in London!
"Well, of all the extraordinary things!" said Mrs. Ogden, genuinely surprised. "Joan, you never told me a word!"
"I didn't know about the post as librarian, Mother."