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 word forth with a little gasp. For a moment Clodagh's face was suffused with red. "I do not need anybody to tell me how I should care for Walter," she said, after a moment's pause. At the low, hurt tone, Nance's antagonistic attitude suddenly deserted her. The expression of her face changed, her figure unbent. "Clo! Clo! I was a wretch!--I was a wretch! Forgive me! It's only that, knowing Walter is coming back to-morrow, knowing that he hates Lord Deerehurst, and seeing you allow him to go everywhere that you go---- Oh, Clo, I can't properly explain, but sometimes I have felt--afraid. Walter is so--so honourable himself." Clodagh put out her hand and laid it for a moment upon her sister's. "When one loves like I do, Nance," she said, "one simply doesn't _see_ anybody but the person that one cares for. Other people don't count--other people don't exist!" Nance looked down at the hand still resting upon her own. "Perhaps not," she said wisely, "but the point is that the person one cares for may not be quite so blind." Clodagh withdrew her hand. "You mean that Walter might imagine--you mean that Walter might be _jealous_ of Lord Deerehurst?" "I do mean that." With a sudden gesture of amusement, Clodagh threw up her head and laughed. Then almost as suddenly her face became grave. "Nance!" she said in a new voice. Very sharply Nance turned. "Yes?" But Clodagh's mood had veered once more.