that's hurting you. So tell me."

He made no answer, and she slipped down from the Chesterfield and came
to his side.

"Is it anything to do with Nan?" she asked gently, her thoughts going
back to the talk she had had with Penelope before the bridge party
began.

A rather weary smile curved his lips.

"It doesn't seem much use trying to keep you in the dark, does it?"

"I must know," she urged. Adding with feminine guile:

"Of course I should be frightfully hurt if I thought you weren't coming
just because you didn't want to. But still I'd rather know--even if
that were the reason."

"Not want to?" he broke out, his control suddenly snapping. "I'd give
my soul to come!"

The bitterness in his voice--in the lazy, drawling tones she knew so
well--let in a flood of light upon the darkness in which she had been
groping.

"Peter--oh, Peter!" she cried tremulously. "You're not--you don't mean
that you care for Nan--seriously?"

"I don't think many men could be with her much without caring," he