She wondered why he looked so terribly tired, why he was so pale, with such dark rings round his eyes. All the mother in her wakened, and, with her shame, swamped the old sense of antagonism and made her long to make amends. He turned on his heel. "I—there’s room for you here." She drew her skirt aside with a quick little nervous gesture. He looked back at her surprised. She was smiling at him anxiously; there was soft deprecation in her eyes. He hesitated. "I—thanks," he said, and sat down. She began chattering about Sheila Pat; about the Zoölogical Gardens, where they had been that day. She rattled on about their own Zoo in Dublin, in the Phoenix Park. She laughingly owned that the Regent’s Park Zoo was larger. "But it hasn’t such a beautiful background, there are no mountains, and ours is such a dear little Zoo somehow. The pelicans and peacocks and seagulls wander about in the open. Sheila Pat scorns your Regent’s Park because they don’t have polo matches there—" "Oh, Mr. Lancaster," a fair-haired girl stopped before them, "I _was_ so sorry for you! It must be _terrible_ to be so nervous!" He stood up. "Very kind of you." Her mother joined in: "Oh, no, everyone is pitying you! And Mr. Yovil is _wild_ about it! He won’t _speak_ of it! So hard and unkind of him! As if anyone can help being nervous. Come, Lucy, dear." Ted sat down again. Nell looked fierce; her lips were shut tight, her cheeks glowing. He glanced at her. "Something has vexed you?" he said tentatively. "Yes." "Anything I can do?" "No! Oh, how hateful—_hateful_ people are! What idiots! Oh, I’m as bad as they are! I didn’t mean to worry you, but it—I never can keep things in. I choke." "Please don’t," he smiled rather bewilderedly. "Say what you like." "No, I won’t. Only how anyone could be so idiotic—so thick-skinned—so _aggravating_ as those two just now—" He looked at her incredulously. "You’re angry with them—for me?" "Of course!" she sounded quite snappy. "It’s awfully nice of you, you know." "Oh, no, it isn’t. And I’m just making it worse—" "No, you’re not, you—you’ve made it a lot better." "Have I?" She smiled radiantly. "Oh, I’m so glad!" "And you know," in an extremely casual tone, "it serves me right for going in for it! And I was an awful fool, of course." "You weren’t. Denis was only saved by being an Irishman. I’ll tell you a secret—he wouldn’t mind...." "Well, he _is_ a clever chap!" "And now do have something to eat. I expect," shrewdly, "you didn’t have much dinner." "But I’m so comfortable here," he pleaded. "You are to go and get something," she commanded. "I’ll keep your place for you." At that he rose obediently. Presently up came Cuthbert Pennington.