"Only fog so thick that a person can’t see an inch in front of her! And whichever way you look, you see nothing but mud and mud! But sure ’tis a nice day for London!" Nell’s eyes had met Ted’s; she understood. "Molly, go and put on your things. I’ll get ready in a minute." She led the way into the Stronghold. She turned and faced him. "What is it?" But he had grown suddenly uncomfortable. "I hope you won’t think—er—that I’ve been meddling," he said, with the slight drawl Nell understood so well now. "Never!" she said. "Go on." "Well, you might. O.B. told me about those Rêve d’or shares—" He paused. Denis nodded. Nell put her hand out suddenly, and rested it heavily on the table. "What about them?" she said. Ted spoke quickly, giving the heart of what he had to say. "The governor says—’Hold on—don’t sell.’" There was a little pause. Nell’s face had gone quite white. "He—means?" she said. Ted glanced at her, and away again. "It may mean nothing—of course, you can’t always tell—" "No, no! We know that," Denis broke in impatiently. "What made your father say it?" "He’s out there, you know—South Africa. He’s got no end of a head. And he’s a shareholder. I asked him about them in a letter some time ago. He wrote last week saying he believed they weren’t as bad as he’d thought, but he couldn’t be sure yet—" "That was the night our Australian letters had come," Nell said. He nodded. "Just now I got a cablegram—saying, ’Hold on, don’t sell.’" He paused. "He may be making a mistake," he said slowly. "The shares may not go up—don’t reckon on it—" He stopped. "We—we can’t help it, Ted," Nell said shakily. "No." He walked over to the window and looked out. There was a little silence. Then suddenly she laughed out, an excited, wild little laugh. "Oh, I _know_ it’s true! I _know_ it is! We shall go home—Denis, don’t you _feel_ it? Ted, it’s all you—all you, Teddie! You’ll come with us. You’ll climb the hills with us—you’ll love our home—" Her voice broke. Ted grew very red; he turned his back on her, and spoke, in a tone of elaborate unconcern, to Denis. "Thought you might come round to Bumpus’s, old man, with me, about that book—" "Oh, hang Bumpus! Hang the book!" Denis interpolated. Nell’s charming face, laughing, was poked suddenly close to Ted’s. "I’m not going to cry, Teddie! D’you think I’d repay you like that? And I won’t even try to thank you—" "Nothing to thank me for," he interposed. "Oh, no, it’s nothing to hear that we’re going back to Kilbrannan soon," observed Denis. "Don’t be such a fool, O.B.!" Ted turned on him angrily. "You’re not a baby! I tell you, those shares may never pay another dividend!" "Oh, Teddie!" The woeful change in her face made him add weakly:— "But I’ve never known the Pater to make a mistake over that sort of thing—" "Oh, _Teddie_!" She was radiant again. She started talking; her voice was breathless, almost a song of joy.