"Well, Madeleine?" said a fresh clear voice.
"Dear Di!" said Madeleine, rising and throwing herself into her friend's arms. "How good of you to come, and so early, too! I have been so longing to see you, so longing to tell you about everything!" She drew her visitor down beside her on the couch, and took possession of her hand.
"I am very anxious to hear," said Di, disengaging her hand after a moment, and pulling off her furred gloves and boa.
"Let me help you, you dear thing," said Madeleine, unfastening her friend's coat, in which action the engagement-ring took a good deal of exercise. "Is it very cold out? What a colour you have! I never saw you looking so well."
"Really?" said Di, remembering how Madeleine had made the same remark on her return last year from fishing in Scotland with her face burnt brick red. "One does not generally look one's best after being out in a wind like a knife; but I am glad you think so. And now tell me all about it."
Di's long, rather large, white hand was taken into both Madeleine's small ones again, and fondled in silence for a few moments.
Di looked at her with an expression half puzzled, half benevolent, as a Newfoundland might look at a toy terrier. She was in reality five or six years younger than Madeleine, but her height and a certain natural dignity of carriage and manner gave her the appearance of being much older—by a rose-coloured light.
"It was very sudden," said Madeleine in a shy whisper, evidently enjoying the situation.
"How sudden? Do you mean it was a sudden idea on his part?"
"No, you tiresome thing, of course not; but it came upon me very suddenly."