"Yes!" Clodagh cried--"yes! I know exactly how great a fool I was. But what is done is done. The day you drove to Wynchley with Lady Diana and Walter, I stayed behind to write to Mr. Barnard and ask him to advance me the money. But somehow I couldn't do that, either; and then--hate me, Nance! hate me, if you like!--Lord Deerehurst came to me when I was most disheartened, most depressed, and offered to lend me the money." "And you took it?" Nance said almost quietly. "I took it--yes, I took it. I have always been like that--always--always; grasping at the easy things, letting the hard ones slip by. And now!--now!" "Now?" "Nance, listen!" She took a swift step forward. "It was because of that loan that I couldn't slight him since we came back to town. You were right--you were quite right in all you advised; but I couldn't do it. He had lent me the money. He had seemed my best friend. I felt I couldn't do it--until yesterday. "But yesterday, when he left, and Walter spoke of him, I knew there was no choice. It was my own happiness or his friendship. And I--I decided for my own happiness." She stopped, and drew a quick, deep breath. Nance clasped her hands, fearfully conscious that more was still to come. "When I have a difficult thing to do," Clodagh went on, "I must do it quickly. I can't wait, I can't prepare and plan, I can't brood over things. After Walter left yesterday I decided that what must be done must be done at once. I made up my mind that I would see Lord Deerehurst to-night; that I would be quite candid with him, explain my position--and appeal to his generosity to let our friendship end." "Then to-night----?" "To-night was all a deception. I had no headache--I wasn't ill. I shammed it all, that I might be alone." "And while we were at the theatre you sent for him----?" "No! I went to Carlton House Terrace to see him." "Went to see him! Clo!" "I said you could hate me! Do hate me! Despise me! Think anything you like! I went to see him; I went to his house--at night, alone--thinking, believing---- Oh!" She made a gesture of acute self-disgust. "Nance, need I say it all? Need I?--need I? Can't you understand without my saying? All that I had imagined about his friendship was untrue. Such people don't understand friendship. All along he had been waiting, quietly and silently, like one of those horrible hawks we used to watch at Orristown--waiting to swoop down when the right moment came." With an almost hysterical gesture she put her hand to her throat. Nance's face had become very white; but in the intensity of her pity and love, she did not dare to approach her sister. "Clo," she whispered, "you must tell Walter." Clodagh's face suddenly flamed.