“It’s no good moaning, dear,” she said firmly. “This once you’ll get no sympathy from me. A lot of sentimental twaddle you’ve been dreaming, and perhaps the best cure is castor-oil, and you’ve taken that.”

“Even Janet’s nicer than you are,” Sheila sobbed.

“You don’t deserve that she should be. Letting us all live here under false pretences. I should think it’s an offence against the law.”

Sheila gave a hiccoughing moan.

“I’d as soon go to prison as be driven away to live in a canteen.”

Maggie folded some cami-knickers.

“You won’t live in a canteen. I wish I thought you wouldn’t get the best of what’s going, but I know you will.”

“I wish I was dead.” Maggie set her mouth and went on folding. “Nobody knows what love scorned feels like but me. A broken heart is a most awfully painful thing. It’s an illness, really. Actually I think I shall take the veil and go into a monastery.”

Maggie’s lips twitched; she struggled with herself, then she began to laugh. She sat down on the bed and took Sheila in her arms.

“My silly goose! If you did take the veil I can quite believe you’d try and enter a monastery instead of a convent. Now stop crying; it’s no good my telling you what I think of you, for one thing I shouldn’t have time to get through it all before your train leaves. I’ll just tell you one thing, and you’ll have to take my word for it; however you feel at this minute, life hasn’t finished for you.” She patted the pillows, and gave Sheila a kiss. There was a twinkle in her eye. “In fact I think we can say about to-day that it was only the end of chapter one.”

Maggie was in the kitchen getting Sheila a drink when Janet brought Gladys in. Her call of, “Come here, Jan,” was on her lips. At sight of Gladys’ face all thought of herself disappeared; here was suffering and she knew all about that.

“Make a pot of tea, Jan,” she said lightly. “Miss Batten and I will have it in the sitting-room and take a cup up to Sheila.” She led the apparently stunned Gladys to an armchair. “There’s nothing like a cup of tea. It’s a national joke saying so, but it’s true, you know, and in my life I’ve had occasion to find out.”

It was half an hour later before Maggie came out of the sitting-room. Janet was leaning against the lintel of the open back door.

“How is she?”

“She’s had a good cry. She’s better for it. Poor woman!”