"Darling!" she cried. "Clo! You are so lovely. I am so proud of you."
Clodagh pressed her cheeks against the warm lips; then drew Nance round to the side of her chair.
"Talk to me!" she said. "Tell me whether you like Tuffnell?"
Nance gave a little laugh of inconsequent happiness, and nestled down at her sister's feet.
"Tuffnell is heavenly! But there are only four nice people here."
"Four nice people? What do you mean?"
"What I say. There are only four nice people here—you, of course"—she lifted one of Clodagh's hands, and pressed it against her lips—"and Lady Diana Tuffnell—and Mr. Tuffnell—and that nice, fair man with the sunburnt face."
Clodagh withdrew her hand from her sister's.
"Sir Walter Gore?"
"Yes. Don't you think him nice?"