"When you are older, Nance, you will know that it is tactless to talk of certain things to certain people. Don't talk to me again of Sir Walter Gore. He and I have nothing to do with each other. We—we belong to different worlds."
Once more she bent and kissed Nance's startled, penitent face; and, putting her gently from her, rose and walked to the window.
For some minutes there was silence in the room; then Clodagh spoke in a completely different voice.
"Nance," she said, "there is something I want to tell you—something I should have written to you, and didn't——"
Nance, in the swift relief of her sister's altered tone, sprang to her feet; and, running across the room, threw her arms about her.
"And, Clo, there's something I ought to have written to you, only I was too shy—and had to wait till I could say it like this, with my arms round you——"
It was Clodagh's turn to look startled. She tried to hold Nance away from her, that she might see her face; but Nance only clung the closer.
"Clo, you love me? Oh, say you love me!"
"Of course I love you."
"And you won't be vexed?"