And she rushed away to dress, Fulvia saying at the same moment, with a smile— "Poor fellow! He is hopelessly far gone!" Nigel made no answer. And the silence lasted until Daisy pranced in, exclaiming, "The day after to-morrow is Fulvie's birthday." "Be quiet, Daisy," ordered Fulvia. "Everybody knows that. It is not to be talked about." "Mr. Carden-Cox talks," said Daisy. "He means to have a lawyer to look into your affairs. I know he does, because he told me so." Daisy's voice was penetrating. She spoke in the open doorway of the morning-room, and the study door lay opposite. A faint groan came across after her speech. "Daisy, will you hold your tongue? He shall do no such thing." "But he will. He told me so. He says he's not going to have your interest sacrificed to everybody's nerves." "Nigel!" Fulvia spoke in a tone of despairing appeal. "I'll see to that. Mind, Daisy, it is not to go any farther. Do for once be discreet. Now are you ready? What's that?" touching her glove. "Oh, only a hole. It split last time I went out." "Couldn't you have mended it before now?" "I suppose so—if I hadn't forgotten." "Have you no other pair?" "Yes, one other. Won't these do? Oh, bother; must I go all the way upstairs again?" Nigel showed no signs of relenting, and Daisy's face certainly showed no annoyance. She went off at full speed, and reappeared with two gloved hands spread out for inspection. "That's better," Nigel said. And they were off, Daisy asking in the garden— "What did you want me to do?" "Help me choose something for Fulvia's birthday." "Ah, then I guessed! Father hasn't got anything this year." "Never mind—my mother has. Fulvia will understand." "Fulvia never gets vexed at that sort of thing. But it will be a horribly dull day. Such a pity! Mr. Carden-Cox is quite put out. He didn't mind so much a week or two ago, but now he says it is all nonsense, and he doesn't believe anything is the matter with my father. Nigel, why does he mind so about the day? I wish you would tell me." "Nobody knows." After a pause Nigel said abruptly— "What makes you think of Elvey marrying Ethel?" "Everybody says it." "Who?" "Mr. Carden-Cox, and Fulvia, and the Brambles, and—oh, all sorts of people." "Have you seen signs of it in Ethel herself?" Nigel spoke quietly, and it was growing dusk. But when Daisy looked up in answer, with a meditative "I don't know," she thought her brother oddly pale. "Why, Nigel!" she said, staring. "What is the matter?" "Why, you look—" "Well?" "Seedy." "I'm not—thanks." "Well, you look so. Is anything wrong?" "Something is always wrong, when a lady can't answer a question."