It was the night of the dinner party at the Hall, at which, as Dick put it, she was to be "on view" as the fiancée of my lord of Angleford, and Nell had come down to the little sitting room dressed and ready to start.
Dick and Falconer were also ready, for Falconer had recovered sufficiently to be present, and had voluntarily offered to take his violin with him.
"Don't tease her, Dick," said Falconer, with the gentle, protective air of an elder brother. "She does not look a bit nervous."
"But I am!" said Nell, laughing a little tremulously; "I am—just a little bit!"
"And no wonder!" said Falconer promptly. "It is rather an ordeal she has to go through; to know that everybody is regarding you critically. But she has nothing to be afraid of."
"Now, there I differ with you," said Dick argumentatively. "If I were in Nell's place I should feel that everybody was thinking: 'What on earth did Lord Angleford see in that slip of a girl to fall in love with?' Ah, would you?" as Nell, laughing and blushing, caught up the sofa cushion. "You throw it and rumple my best hair, if you dare."
Nell put the cushion down reluctantly.
"It's a mean shame; you know I can't fight now."
"Though you have your war paint on," said Falconer, looking at her with a half-sad, half-proud admiration and affection.
"It's not much of a war paint," said Nell, but contentedly enough. "It's the dress I made for a party at Wolfer House—Dick, you know that the Wolfers have had to go? Lord Wolfer's brother was ill. I am so sorry! She would have made me feel less nervous, and rather braver. Yes, I'm sorry! It's an old dress, and I'm afraid Drake's jewels must feel quite ashamed of it," and she glanced at the pearls which he had given her a day or two ago, and which gleamed softly on her white, girlish neck and arms.