At another time that dinner, eaten in the company of people whom Nesta had never even dreamed about before, might have confused her, but she was past being confused now. She had a curious sensation, however, that the rich and delicately cooked food provided for the guests at Castle Walworth was as little to her taste as fried herrings and pease pudding at Mrs Hogg's cottage. There was a heavy weight about her heart; she could scarcely raise her eyes to look at any one. Angela seemed to know all that, for after dinner she took her away, and out in the cool garden in the shadows of the summer night she talked to Nesta as no one had ever talked to her before. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. THE BEST OF THEM ALL. "It is all too wonderful," said Nesta. "Yes, isn't it?" replied Penelope. "To think," continued Nesta, "that I should like it, that I should even on the whole be quite pleased." "As to me," said Penelope, "I can scarcely contain myself. It is all on account of her, too. In fact, it is on account of both of them. They are both coming, you know." "Oh, it is mostly on account of her, as far as I am concerned," said Nesta. As Nesta spoke Penelope looked at her. "You certainly are very much changed," she said. "I wouldn't know you for the same girl." "And I wouldn't know you for the same girl," retorted Nesta. "You seem to be sort of--sort of watching yourself all the time." Penelope smiled. She slipped her hand through Nesta's arm. "Let us walk up and down," she said. The girls disappeared out of a low French window, and paced slowly up the shrubbery at Court Prospect. When they came to the end of the shrubbery they crossed the lawn and stood for a few moments just where they could get a peep into what had been the rose garden. That old-world garden where Angela used to walk when she was a child, and where her mother had walked before her. When they reached this spot, Penelope said very slowly: "Do you know, Nesta, it was here, just here, she found me. Here on the ground." "Were you really just here?" said Nesta. "I was, and I was about as miserable a girl as could be found in the wide world. I told you all about it, didn't I?" "Oh, yes, and we needn't go into it now, need we?" "We need never talk of it any more. It is buried away deep; even God has forgotten it, at least, that is what Angela says." "I was a thousand times worse than you," said Nesta, "and Angela says-- by the way she found me, too, lying on the grass--I was sobbing bitterly. I had cause to sob, I was just fifty times as wicked as you. But we needn't talk of that now." "Of course not," replied Penelope, "for as Angela says, if God has forgotten, nobody else need mind." "But it is strange," continued Nesta, "how different you are." "And how different you are, Nesta, so we both understand each other."