‘Yes. Monday, then.’
Nancy heard him smother a laugh. She wished to look at him, but could not.
‘It won’t rain,’ he continued, still with the ease of one who speaks of everyday matters. ‘We shall see, at all events. Perhaps you will want to change your book at the library.’ A novel lay on her lap. ‘We’ll leave it an open possibility—to meet there about three o’clock.’
Nancy pointed out to sea, and asked where the steamer just passing might be bound for. Her companion readily turned to this subject.
The rain—she half hoped for it—did not come. By luncheon-time every doubtful cloud had vanished. Before sitting down to table, she observed the sky at the open window.
‘Lovely weather!’ sighed Mrs. Morgan behind her. ‘But for you, dear Nancy, I should have been dreaming and wishing—oh, how vainly!—in the stifling town.’
‘We’ll have another drive this afternoon,’ Nancy declared.
‘Oh, how delightful! But pray, pray, not on our account—’
‘Jessica,’—Nancy turned to her friend, who had just entered the room,—‘we’ll have the carriage at three. And a better horse than last time; I’ll take good care of that. Pen, ink, and paper!’ she cried joyously. ‘The note shall go round at once.’
‘You’re a magnificent sort of person,’ said Jessica. ‘Some day, no doubt, you’ll keep a carriage and pair of your own.’