"You're musical too?" inquired the singer, still staring.
"Oh, no, not a bit; I don't know one note from another."
"Tiens! Then what do you do?"
Joan hesitated. "At the present moment, nothing."
Harriet turned to Elizabeth. "And you?" she inquired. "I feel sure you must do something; you look it."
"I? Oh, I teach Joan."
Milly fidgeted with the tea things; the unexpected arrivals necessitated more hot water. Her sister's sudden appearance with Elizabeth made her vaguely uneasy. How on earth had these two managed to escape, and what did this escape portend? Would it, could it possibly affect her in any way? And they seemed so calm about it; Joan apparently took it as a matter of course that she should come up to London for a fortnight's spree. Milly felt incapable of boiling the kettle again; she poured out some tepid tea and handed it to her sister.
"Is Mother all alone?" she inquired.
Joan smiled at the implied reproach. "No, we've got a very good maid at the moment, though goodness only knows how long she'll stay."
Milly was silent; what could she say? Joan's manner was utterly unconcerned, and in any case, why shouldn't she come up to London for a bit; everyone else did. She felt a little ashamed of herself; hadn't she always been the one to rage against the injustice of their existence, to encourage insubordination? And she owed her own freedom entirely to Joan; Joan had stuck by her like a brick.