In his voice there was all the reserve, all the coldness of the Englishman who has been very sorely wounded.
"And what about him?"
Quite suddenly Gore's reserve flamed to anger.
"Do you think I am going to talk of such things with a child like you?"
Nance clasped her hands on the closed doors of the cab, formulating a sudden prayer that help might be vouchsafed her; then she spoke, with eyes fixed steadily in front of her.
"I am not a child, Walter," she said in a very low voice. "And you must speak to me—for Clo's sake. And if you won't, then I must tell you that I know all about her staying away from the theatre the other night—about her having no headache, but wanting to see Deerehurst—about her going to Carlton House Terrace at nine o'clock—I know it all, because she told me——"
Gore drew a quick, amazed breath.
"She told you?"
She nodded. Her throat felt very dry.
"Clodagh told you that?"