rm ones.

"Nothing but a wretched headache! It will go, if I lie down all the
afternoon and keep quiet to-night."

Nance looked up.

"But how can you--at the play?"

"I'm not going to the play."

"Not going?"

Clodagh drew her sister closer.

"Now, darling, don't make a fuss! If you say one word of objection, my
head will get ten times worse than it is. You are just to listen, and
do as I tell you. You are to telephone to Mrs. Estcoit and explain what
has happened. She will do the chaperoning instead of me."

"But Walter----"

"Walter is to go with you. You are to be as nice to him as you possibly
can be. Everything is to be exactly as we arranged--_exactly_ as we
arranged."

She raised herself on her elbow to enforce the words.

"And what about Lord Deerehurst?"

Clodagh did not answer immediately; then, sinking back among her
pillows, she spoke in a somewhat hurried voice.

"That will be all right; I--I took your advice and sent him two
messages, one to Carlton House Terrace and one to his club. He won't be
at the theatre."

"But if he doesn't get the message? If he comes all the same?"

"Then be polite to him. And now go, like a good child. Don't ask any
more questions. Don't say anything. Let me see you when you're dressed,
and I'll give you a letter for Walter. I'm afraid I can't dine with
you; I'll just have something sent in here." Then, as if in sudden
remorse, she put her arms about Nance's neck and drew her close to her.

"Darling, forgive me, if I seem impossible!"

At half-past eight Nance left the house, having shown herself to her
sister, made a last loving inquiry as to her health, and taken
possession of the note for Gore.

As she passed out of the bedroom, Clodagh threw off the fur rug that
lay across her feet, and sat up with an expression of sharp attention.
As the sound of the closing hall door reached her ears, she drew a
little breath of excitement and rose from the couch with no appearance
of her recent indisposition.

Without calling in Simonetta, she changed from the white silk wrapper
she was wearing into a black walking-dress, and crossing to one of the
wardrobes took out a black hat and veil.

She scarcely looked at herself, as she smoothed her hair and fastened
on her hat. Beneath the enforced repression of the afternoon, there
burned in her mind a certain sense of adventure--of enterprise--that
turned her hot and cold. For though the Irish nature may procrastina