sance to everybody while these
stupid doctors have been debating over the case. It's a comfort that
they have made up their minds at last, and that I can be moved as soon
as there is a place ready for me. Father is ordering a spinal carriage
from London with the latest conveniences, like the suburban villas. I
believe you lie on a mattress or something of the sort, which can be
lifted and put down in the carriage. Such a saving of trouble! It is
wonderful how cleverly they manage things nowadays."

Just the old, light, airy voice; just the same society drawl. She might
have been talking of a new ball dress for any sign of emotion to be
seen, and yet I know well that Vere--the old Vere--could have faced no
fate more bitter than this! I stared at her, and she stared back with a
fixed, unchanging smile. I knew by that smile that it was not
resignation she felt; not anything like that lovely willing way in which
really good people accept trouble--crippled old women in cottages, who
will tell you how good God has been to them, when they are as poor as
mice, and have never been out of one room for years; and other people
who lose everybody they love best, and spend their lives trying to make
other people happy, instead of glumping alone. I have really and truly
known people like that, but their faces looked sweet and radiant.
Vere's was very different. I knew now what father had been worrying
about the last few days, and what he meant by advising me to speak
openly, but it was not easy to do so. I was afraid of her with that new
look!

"We are both cripples for the time being, but if I get strong before you
do, I'll do everything I can to help you, dear, and make the time pass
quickly," I was beginning feebly, when she caught me up at once, as if
she did not want to hear any more.

"Oh, thanks; but I love lazing. I am quite an adept in the art of doing
nothing, and you will have quite enough on your hands. It's a capital
thing for you, my being out of the running. You would never have taken
your proper place unless you were really forced into it. Now you will
have to be Miss Sackville, and you must keep up my reputation and do
credit to your training."

"I shall never take your place, Vere," I said sadly, and then
something--I don't know what--reminded me suddenly of Mr Carstairs, and
I asked if she knew he was staying with Will.

"Oh, yes. He writes to me frequently--sheets upon sheets. He has made
up