Phillips came down looking more cheerful.  He had detected improvement in Mrs. Phillips.  She was more hopeful in herself.  They talked in low tones during the meal, as people do whose thoughts are elsewhere.  It happened quite suddenly, Phillips explained.  They had come down a few days after the rising of Parliament.  There had been a spell of hot weather; but nothing remarkable.  The first attack had occurred about three weeks ago.  It was just after Hilda had gone back to school.  He wasn’t sure whether he ought to send for Hilda, or not.  Her mother didn’t want him to—­not just yet.  Of course, if she got worse, he would have to.  What did Joan think?—­did she think there was any real danger?

Joan could not say.  So much depended upon the general state of health.  There was the case of her own father.  Of course she would always be subject to attacks.  But this one would have warned her to be careful.

Phillips thought that living out of town might be better for her, in the future—­somewhere in Surrey, where he could easily get up and down.  He could sleep himself at the club on nights when he had to be late.

They talked without looking at one another.  They did not speak about themselves.

Mrs. Phillips was in bed when Joan went up to say good-bye.  “You’ll come again soon?” she asked, and Joan promised.  “You’ve made me so happy,” she whispered.  The nurse was in the room.

They discussed politics in the train.  Phillips had found more support for his crusade against Carleton than he had expected.  He was going to open the attack at once, thus forestalling Carleton’s opposition to his land scheme.

“It isn’t going to be the Daily This and the Daily That and the Weekly the Other all combined to down me.  I’m going to tell the people that it’s Carleton and only Carleton—­Carleton here, Carleton there, Carleton everywhere, against them.  I’m going to drag him out into the open and make him put up his own fists.”

Joan undertook to sound Greyson.  She was sure Greyson would support him, in his balanced, gentlemanly way, that could nevertheless be quite deadly.

They grew less and less afraid of looking at one another as they felt that darkened room further and further behind them.

They parted at Charing Cross.  Joan would write.  They agreed it would be better to choose separate days for their visits to Folkestone.

She ran against Madge in the morning, and invited herself to tea.  Her father had returned to Liverpool, and her own rooms, for some reason, depressed her.  Flossie was there with young Halliday.  They were both off the next morning to his people’s place in Devonshire, from where they were going to get married, and had come to say good-bye.  Flossie put Sam in the passage and drew-to the door.

“Have you seen her?” she asked.  “How is she?”

“Oh, she’s changed a good deal,” answered Joan.  “But I think she’ll get over it all right, if she’s careful.”