"But Clodagh doesn't know? Walter, you haven't told Clodagh! Walter!"
Gore bent his head. "I wrote to her the night I saw Frances Hope," he said. "She had my letter this morning."
"This morning?" It was impossible to fathom the pain and alarm in Nance's voice. "What did you write?"
"Very little. Just that I knew about Deerehurst—that I thought it better we should not marry."
"And she got that letter this morning? She has been hours and hours alone, believing that you don't love her—that she is left utterly by herself? Oh!"
"Nance, don't! I'm sufficiently ashamed."
Nance put her hands over her eyes.
"I'm not thinking of you!" she said cruelly.
"I know. But remember, there's the wire. We can still wire. I shall tell her that you and I are coming for her to Ireland—that she will never be alone again."
Nance's hand dropped.