irst intended.

So bidding good-bye to the Tuffnells, to her fellow guests, and to
Gore, Clodagh had returned to London. And now, a fortnight later, she
and Nance were driving homeward through the park in the warmth of an
early afternoon.

The morning had been devoted to the preparation of Nance's trousseau--a
matter which, in these days, claimed absorbed attention; and, later,
the sisters had lunched together at one of the restaurants.

The day--or at least the earlier portion of it--had been a complete
success. But now, as Clodagh's motor car sped along under the canopy of
trees, already whitened with summer dust, a cloud seemed to have fallen
upon the sisters' gaiety. Clodagh lay back in her corner, looking
straight in front of her; Nance sat stiffly upright, her face flushed,
her head held at an aggressive angle.

At last, unable to maintain the silence longer, she turned and looked
at her sister.

"It--it seems to me so stupid!" she said.

Clodagh took up a parasol that lay beside her, and opened it with a
little jerk.

"Was it my fault that he lunched at 'Prince's'? Was it my fault that he
sat at the table next to ours? You know perfectly well that I don't
care where he lunches--or whether he ever lunches----"

Nance maintained her rigid attitude.

"I wonder if he is of that opinion," she said dryly.

Clodagh flushed suddenly.

"It is you who are being stupid! Lord Deerehurst is one of my best
friends. It's impossible to treat him rudely when we chance to meet."

Nance gave a little angry laugh.

"When you chance to meet!" she repeated with immense scorn. Then she
turned afresh and looked at her sister. "Do you think engaged people
ought to have best friends? I wonder what Pierce would say if I were to
get flowers and books and things every day----"

Clodagh shut her parasol sharply.

"How can you, Nance! Books and flowers and things everyday! Four times
Lord Deerehurst has sent me flowers since we came back to town."

"And how many times has he written to you? And how many times has he
called? And why did he come back to town from Tuffnell, instead of
going to France with Mr. Serracauld?"

Clodagh looked away across the park.

"He had business in town."

"Business! Was it business that brought him to the flat at nine o'clock
the second day after we arrived--and that made you ride with him? Oh,
Clo, I wonder, when you think of Walter, that you're--you're not
ashamed!" She brought the last