Elizabeth smiled and pressed her hand. "Are you happy, my dear?" she
asked doubtfully.
Joan flared up. "What a ridiculous question to ask; but perhaps you're
not happy?"
"Oh, don't!" said Elizabeth, turning away.
They had tea in the restaurant of the "Furniture Emporium," tepid Indian
tea and stale pound cake.
"Ugh!" said Joan disgustedly, as she tried to drink the mixture.
"Yes, it's undrinkable," Elizabeth agreed.
They paid for the meal which they had left untouched, and catching a
bus, went to the station.
On their way home in the train they sat silent. They were very tired,
but it was not that which made speech difficult, but rather the sense of
deep disappointment oppressing them both. No, it had not been at all
like they had expected, this choosing of the furniture for their home
together; something intangible had spoilt it all. "It was my fault,"
Joan thought miserably. "It was all my fault. I meant to be happy, I
wanted to be, but I wasn't a bit--and Elizabeth saw it."
When they said "Good night" at the Rodneys' house they clung to each
other for a moment in silence.
"Go. Oh, do go!" said Elizabeth brokenly, and Joan went with drooping
head.