She sat down by the couch, and laid a light hand caressingly on her daughter's. "Darling! Had your tea? You feel really better, don't you? The doctor says the massage is to begin tomorrow. By the way--" she tossed a handful of newspaper cuttings onto the coverlet--"perhaps some of these things about the reception may amuse you. Maisie's been saving them to show you. Of course most of the foreign names are wrong; but the description of the room is rather good. I believe Tommy Ardwin wrote the article for the 'Looker-on.' Amalasuntha says the Cardinal will like it. It seems he was delighted with the idea of the flash-light photographs. Altogether he was very much pleased." "Then you ought to be, mother." Nona forced her pale lips into a smile. "I _am_, dear. If I do a thing at all I like to do it well. That's always been my theory, you know: the best or nothing. And I do believe it was a success. But perhaps I'm tiring you--." Pauline stood up irresolutely. She had never been good at bedsides unless she could play some active and masterful part there. Nona was aware that her mother's moments alone with her had become increasingly difficult as her strength had returned, and there was nothing more to be done for her. It was as well that the Manfords were starting on their journey that evening. "Don't stay, mother; I'm all right, really. It's only that things still tire me a little--" Pauline lingered, looking down on the girl with an expression of anxiety struggling through her smooth rejuvenation. "I wish I felt happier about leaving you, darling. I know you're all right, of course; but the idea of your staying in this house all by yourself--" "It's just what I shall like. And on father's account you ought to get away." "It's what I feel," Pauline assented, brightening. "You must be awfully busy with all the last things to be done. I'm as comfortable as possible; I wish you'd just go off and forget about me." "Well, Maisie is clamouring for me," Pauline confessed from the threshold. The door shut, and Nona closed her eyes with a sigh. Tomorrow--tomorrow she would be alone! And in a week, perhaps, she would get back to Cedarledge, and lie on the terrace with the dogs about her, and no one to ask questions, to hint and sympathize, or be discreet and evasive... Yes, in spite of everything, the idea of returning to Cedarledge now seemed more bearable than any other...