ire roads. Yielding to the spell of Nance's
voice, she lulled the knowledge of impending difficulties and opened
her ears to the tale of her sister's experiences--of her friends, her
acquaintances, her pleasures, her occupations--all poured forth with a
perfectly ingenuous egotism that was a refreshment and delight.

Though they remained together all through the morning and afternoon,
the sisters had no further opportunity of a _tete-a-tete_. Immediately
on their arrival at Tuffnell, Lady Diana had made Nance welcome and had
introduced her to her fellow-guests; and the remainder of the day had
been spent, first in tennis and croquet, later in a long coach drive,
which included a call upon some neighbours of the Tuffnells. Almost
immediately after dinner, however, Clodagh had pleaded that Nance was
tired, and had borne her off to her own room. There she dismissed
Simonetta, and, closing the door, drew forward two chairs to the open
window.

"Now!" she said--"at last! What do you think of Tuffnell--and of
everybody?" She sank into one of the chairs with a little sigh.

But Nance, instead of answering, tip-toed across the room; and, bending
over the back of her chair, gave her a long, impulsive kiss.

"Darling!" she cried. "Clo! You are so lovely. I am so proud of you."

Clodagh pressed her cheeks against the warm lips; then drew Nance round
to the side of her chair.

"Talk to me!" she said. "Tell me whether you like Tuffnell?"

Nance gave a little laugh of inconsequent happiness, and nestled down
at her sister's feet.

"Tuffnell is heavenly! But there are only four nice people here."

"Four nice people? What do you mean?"

"What I say. There are only four nice people here--you, of course"--she
lifted one of Clodagh's hands, and pressed it against her lips--"and
Lady Diana Tuffnell--and Mr. Tuffnell--and that nice, fair man with the
sunburnt face."

Clodagh withdrew her hand from her sister's.

"Sir Walter Gore?"

"Yes. Don't you think him nice?"

"I----? Oh, I--I don't know."

"But why? He likes you."

Clodagh gave a quick, unsteady laugh, and sank back into her chair.

"Dear little Nance! What a baby you are! If there is one person in the
world who does not like me, it is Sir Walter Gore!"

With a sudden movement of interest Nance sat up, and looked at her
sister.

"But he does, Clo," she said. "I saw him looking at you over and over
again, when you were talking to other people. He likes you. Oh