curious, dazed look in her eyes.

"Nan!" she cried sharply. "Nan! What's the matter?"

Nan turned her head fretfully from one side to the other.

"Nothing," she answered dully. "Nothing whatever."

But Penelope saw the look of strain in her face. Very deliberately she
divested herself of her hat and coat and sat down.

"Tell me about it," she said practically. "Is it--is it that man?"

A gleam of humour shot across Nan's face, and the painfully set
expression went out of it.

"Yes," she said, smiling a little. "It is 'that man.'"

"Well, what's happened? Surely"--with an accent of reproof--"surely
you've not refused him?"

Nan still regarded her with a faintly humorous smile.

"Do you think I ought not--to have refused him?" she queried.

Penelope answered with decision.

"Certainly I do. You could see--anyone could see--that he cared badly,
and you ought to have choked him off months ago if you only meant to turn
him down at the finish. It wasn't playing the game."