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, he _does_ like you! And he doesn't care one bit for Lady Frances Hope, though she follows him everywhere he goes----" But Clodagh sat suddenly upright, and with an abrupt gesture put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Nance," she said sharply, "you are talking about things that you don't understand. Don't talk about them! It--it annoys me!" "But, Clo----" For answer Clodagh stooped and kissed her almost nervously. "When you are older, Nance, you will know that it is tactless to talk of certain things to certain people. Don't talk to me again of Sir Walter Gore. He and I have nothing to do with each other. We--we belong to different worlds." Once more she bent and kissed Nance's startled, penitent face; and, putting her gently from her, rose and walked to the window.