Elizabeth freed herself with a quick twist of her body. "What?"
"Read this letter."
Elizabeth blinked at the gas-jet. "It's my eyes," she complained almost fretfully. "Light the candle, will you, Joan? Then we can put the gas out."
Joan did as she wished, and returning to the bed leant over the foot-rail, watching Elizabeth as she read. Elizabeth had gone white to the lips; she laid down the letter and they stared at each other in silence.
At last Elizabeth spoke. "She's coming home soon," she said in a flat voice.
"Yes; I must go and fetch her the day after to-morrow."
"She'll need—nursing—if she lives."
"Yes—if she lives——"
"It's February already, Joan."
"Yes, next month is March. We called it our March, didn't we, Elizabeth?"